


like real people do

by wintersrose616



Series: statue au [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon Divergence - Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, M/M, Soulmates, background Annette/Dedue, background Sylvain/Claude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26547136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersrose616/pseuds/wintersrose616
Summary: Their destination lies on the edge of the Tailtean Plains, old ruins that sit devoured by the nature surrounding it. The only thing tended to within the dilapidated stones was a statue—the main reason Sylvain had chosen it for Annette’s newest song about a lost love. The statue itself isn’t anything too special, bronze and marble, standing tall amidst the green plant life and stone rubble of what had to have once been a grandiose estate."You know, the legend says if you kiss the statue, and you're soul mates, he'll wake up!""Annette, you are not kissing a statue, I'm not letting you do that.""I have disinfectant wipes," Sylvain offers, grinning when Felix glares."Oh, I don't actually want to kiss him!" Annette says, waving her hand dismissively. "It is a cute legend, though, maybe I should—""I'm going to!” Sylvain announces, slinging his arms over their shoulders as they head underneath the arch into the ruins."Youare going to get some sort of disease.".Felix has never been one to believe in soulmates, until he manages to bring a statue to life.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: statue au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136591
Comments: 111
Kudos: 350





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> alright so _technically_ this is post CF, but I took a lot of liberties with the end of that to make this AU work, so just brace yourselves for that!

He stands on a field, surrounded by rain washed blood. Thunder cracks overhead, lightning flashing just long enough for him to see the bodies piled across the plain, and the object of his quest standing tall paces away. In his hand is a sword, a familiar weight grasped between his fingers. Rain runs down him, water forcing his clothes and hair to stick. He should feel cold.

He doesn't.

"Felix."

A voice calls to him, one he knows. He doesn't need to turn to picture her face, the bright red of her armour, the dull glow from her own weapon. He knows the look on her face will be close to pity, which fuels a brief bout of rage that spurs him on, boots picking across mud and viscera.

"He's mine." His voice comes out a rasp, barely audible over the din of the rain, the sounds of battle further across the field. "If he's to die by anyone's hand, it'll be mine."

He's determined. He knows it has to be him.

So _why_ is he so sad?

“Felix, it doesn’t have to be you. Let me—“

He scoffs at the next voice, not bothering to stoop down to glare over his shoulder. He marches on, one foot in front of the other, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword. He blinks, and has traversed what feels like leagues. The rest of the battlefield is behind him. He stands close enough to see his target’s eye, the blue brilliantly bright even in the darkness of rainfall. Close enough that he can see the pinch to his brows, the frown creasing his lips. 

The sadness Felix feels echoed on his face. 

“ _Felix_.”

Anger curdles in his stomach. He has no right to feel that sad, looking at Felix as he is. They’re enemies. He knows that, knows it as well as he knows that the roar he hears is more than the wind, it’s the blood in his veins, his pounding pulse. He has to find his resolve, he has to stand against him. 

He’s already come this far, he can’t back down.

“I said I’d cut down anyone who stood in my way,” he grits. 

A solemn nod from the man—the _beast_ —before him. He readies his own weapon, the dull glow of the lance shimmering to a bright red. Felix doesn’t draw his gaze away, keeps his focus.

It has to be Felix. 

The beast's lips part, a speech at the ready. Felix is almost grateful for the interruption that cuts through before he can speak. 

It’s a crack of thunder, sharp and deafening. Felix winces at it, despite everything, and in the next heartbeat there’s a blinding, red light in front of him, encompassing everything around him. He closes his eyes against it, trying to salvage his vision, but the light burns through his eyelids, too bright, too _dangerous_. He’s seen this magic once before, years ago, but never like this. Whatever the source of it is, it fills his body with panic, fear coursing through him alongside adrenaline.

Felix wakes with a choked gasp, his alarm beeping at him from his nightstand. He jolts upwards, fingers gripping the blanket so tight his fingers ache. He tries to shake off the nightmare as he unfurls his fingers, reaching out to shut his alarm off. 

It’s early. The sky hasn’t started to lighten yet, based on how dark his window is behind the curtain. Sylvain had told him last night that they would need to leave around breakfast to make it out of the city for the best lighting for the photos he was taking for Annette’s new single. Felix hadn’t even wanted to go, but he’s always had a hard time telling Annette _no_. 

Regardless of the day’s full schedule, he has no desire to skip out on his morning run, which meant waking up earlier than normal. He’s certain Sylvain is still asleep, but it doesn’t stop him from sending him a flood of texts asking about the day, hoping to annoy him while he changes into his running clothes. He’s just pulled on his leggings, sending another— _and you’re picking me up, right?_ —when he gets a response from Sylvain, filled with typos and obvious sleep-irritation. Felix deciphers it anyway. _Sleeping. See you at 8_.

Felix rolls his eyes, finishing changing. By the time he’s out on his regular trail, the remnants of the nightmare that had woken him are all but gone, leaving him only with the lingering trace of sadness.

Annette wakes while Felix is halfway home, her chipper attitude coming through in a text to the group chat she had set up with him, Sylvain, and Dedue—even though Dedue would be busy today and not joining them on their out of town escapade. Sylvain responds just as grumpily to her as he had with Felix, but it doesn’t deter her cheerfulness. 

Felix leaves his phone on silent while he showers and dresses. He’s got nearly thirty messages by the time he checks, mostly from Sylvain, pouting in response to Annette’s bubbly texts. 

Annette declares she’ll have breakfast ready when they arrive, which boosts Sylvain into leaving early. Felix finishes getting ready, stuffing a bottle of sunscreen next to his wallet in his bag. He’s locking up his apartment by the time he receives Sylvain’s _here!_ text. 

Sylvain’s jeep is loitering by the curb, the sound of his music loud through the closed windows. Felix scowls as he walks up, and as soon as Sylvain spots him, grin bright, his hand reaches out to turn the music down. The pop song playing immediately turns into background noise as Sylvain greets him cheerfully, obviously well-rested despite Felix and Annette’s best efforts, always a morning person once he’s awake. He’s put more effort into his outfit than Felix expected him to for a trek an hour and a half out of the city, though he’s still wearing his stupid, pink sunglasses, winking when Felix gives them a pointed look. 

The drive to Annette and Dedue’s from Felix’s apartment isn’t long. Annie’s at the curb with Dedue beside her, her arms full of a container that Felix knows holds sweets. Dedue’s holding a smaller one and while Felix steps out of the front to let Annette clambour in, he passes it off to him. 

“Annette made tarts,” he states, simply. “I assumed you would like a muffin instead. Savoury, not sweet.”

“Thanks,” Felix tells him, taking the container.

Dedue nods. “Thank you for going with them to help.”

Felix would argue he didn’t have much of a choice, really, but knows it’s pointless. Sylvain’s forcing him out because the last time Felix had gone out just to ‘ _get sun_ ,’ was when his father made him and Glenn go on a hike with him before the semester started, claiming late summer hikes made nature seem more pristine and untouched. 

Annette leans out the window while Felix climbs into the back to give Dedue a cheek kiss. As soon as they start pulling away, Sylvain all but interrogates Annette on if there’s powdered sugar on the pastries, determined not to make a mess of the car, but she whips out a bundle of paper napkins from her purse to help contain it. 

The ride is long, but Sylvain keeps the music cranked, and Annette alternates between singing along or twisting in her seat to chat with Felix. She’s dressed beautifully, shimmering makeup sparkling along her cheeks every time she smiles. Felix understands _her_ being dressed up—this entire trip is about her having her pictures being taken. Felix feels underdressed by comparison, only in jeans and an old turtleneck, but he’s never been one to dwell on his own appearance. 

The highway out of Fhirdiad is always crowded, but when Sylvain steers them off the main road to take the back ones to their destination, the two-lane highway sits empty except for the jeep bumbling along it, the roadway edged with an army of ancient trees towering above them. 

The trees slowly start to wane, the road changing from paved to dirt as they bumble along into Tailtean proper. Signs edge the line of the road, declaring they’re in a historic, protected area of nature. Annette starts to brim, pointing out different flowers that are clustered along the road’s edge, Dedue’s innate knowledge of them rubbing off on her. 

Their destination lies on the edge of the Tailtean Plains, old ruins that sit devoured by the nature surrounding it. The only thing tended to within the dilapidated stones was a statue—the main reason Sylvain had chosen it for Annette’s newest song about a lost love. The statue itself isn’t anything _too_ special, bronze and marble, standing tall amidst the green plant life and stone rubble of what had to have once been a grandiose estate. 

It’s ancient, though, thousands of years old and still standing proudly amongst ruins that could be considered beautific, which means it’s the perfect place for Sylvain.

Sylvain had always been obsessed with combing over things like this when they were younger, but they had never had an opportunity to get so far out of Fhirdiad before when they were children, and then with university stressing them out, weekend fun trips weren't a thing unless it was to the northern beach. Sylvain’s still done his research on the area, and anytime he’s two beers in, he’ll tell anyone he can trap about the legends regarding the plains. A fearsome battle to decide the fate of the continent, a mournful general who didn’t want to see anymore death and used magic to stop the fight in an unexpected way that historians were still trying to piece together. Felix thinks it’s stupid enough as it is—who builds a mansion estate on what was once a battlefield? 

Annette's bursting with excitement long before they've even parked off the dirt road that leads back to the highway, fingers drumming nonsensical beats against her thighs when they climb out of Sylvain’s jeep. 

Sylvain collects his camera bag from the back as Felix shades his eyes with a hand, peering over the plains. The main wall of the ruins is the only other thing that’s still decently holding up, but even then the rocks have fallen to barely being as tall as Felix’s waist. There’s a large stone archway that’s half-fallen that leads into them, a warning sign plastered to the side to be cautious and enter at their own risk.

"You know, the legend says if you kiss the statue, and you're soul mates, he'll wake up!"

"Annette, you are _not_ kissing a statue, I'm not letting you do that."

"I have disinfectant wipes," Sylvain offers, grinning when Felix glares.

"Oh, I don't actually want to kiss him!" Annette says, waving her hand dismissively. "It is a cute legend, though, maybe I should—"

"I'm going to!” Sylvain announces, slinging his arms over their shoulders as they head underneath the arch into the ruins.

" _You_ are going to get some sort of disease."

"From kissing marble? I doubt it. I've kissed worse."

"Ew!" Annette declares, helpfully.

“How would Claude feel about you saying that?”

Sylvain waggles his eyebrows. “He knows my past—Sothis knows why he’s still with me.”

Annette reaches over to pinch his shoulder, rolling her eyes at his dramatic, pained _ow!_ “Don’t be like that! This is a happy day!” 

The statue stands out amongst the rest, the tallest point of the entire area. Sylvain goes from casual jokes to _proper work_ in a blink of an eye, his jaw set as he looks over the area, trying to pinpoint the best places for Annette’s photos. The few bits of stone that they need to climb over are easy enough to hop over, Sylvain hoisting Annette over them effortlessly so she doesn’t risk ripping her tights on the rough edges. 

Felix’s eyes stay honed on the statue while Sylvain goes through posing Annette in different areas of sunlit patches, his instructions on expression and poise drifting off to blend in with the sound of bird calls off in the distance, wind rustling through the grass.

He wanders closer to it, not daring to get _too_ close, but he can’t stop his eyes from drifting back to it when he looks away. He feels _weird_ , an unidentifiable emotion welling in him as his eyes rake over the statue’s form, the way it grips its bronzed lance steady. 

He’s not sure why, but Felix feels like he recognizes it. 

He almost leaps out of his skin when Sylvain calls to him, twisting over his shoulder to watch as he approaches, grin bright. 

“Can you take a picture of me kissing this thing to send to Claude?”

“I am not doing that,” Felix states.

Annette, ever helpful, chirps, “I will!”

“Annie’s my new favourite.”

“When was I _ever_ your favourite?”

Sylvain gives him a pointed look, as if he knows the answer to that, setting his camera delicately back in its bag to set aside while he climbs up, clinging to the statue’s outstretched arm to hoist himself onto the pedestal. Sylvain’s nearly as tall as it, and he’s grinning like a schoolkid as he slings his arms over the statue’s neck, pulling himself up like a giant backpack.

“Ready, Annie?”

Felix rolls his eyes as Annette whips her phone out. “Ready!”

Sylvain presses a quick peck to the statue’s cheek, before drawing back, seemingly waiting for something. After a pause, he waggles his brows.

“Guess Claude’s my soulmate after all.” 

Annette’s halfway through an _aw!_ when Sylvain kisses the thing’s cheek again, the noise that it makes forcing Felix’s face to contort in disgust.

“No one kissing _marble_ should have _that_ sound come from their mouths,” he snaps, and Sylvain’s laughing as he hops down, reaching for Annette’s phone with a grabby motion. He seems to approve of the photos, laughing again when Felix refuses to even look at it.

“Send that to the group?” Sylvain asks. 

Annette gives him a mock salute before slipping her phone back into her dress’ pocket. “My turn?”

“You are _not_ kissing that thing, Annette,” Felix says. 

Her lips blow out in a pout. “I still need a photo with it, _Felix_ ,” she says, exasperated. “Help me up?”

His eyes narrow up at the statue’s face as he helps Annette up onto the statue’s base. She’s comically small next to it, the statue only a few inches shorter than Dedue, nearly as broad. Felix wonders, in a quick thought he quickly stuffs down, how he would look next to it. The logical side of his brain already points out if he wants a comparison, to just stand next to Sylvain, but that doesn’t satisfy him enough to stop thinking about it.

Annette draws him out of his thoughts, hands fluttering around the statue, as if unsure where she should touch. 

“What. . .What pose should I do?” Annette asks, glancing to Sylvain with a furrowed brow, worrying her lip. 

Sylvain hums, moving around the base, glancing up at her, shielding his eyes from the bright sun with a palm. “Why don’t you stand on your tiptoes, and _pretend_ —,” he shoots Felix a pointed look, “—like you’re going to go for a kiss. We’ll see how that one turns out.” 

“Eyes closed?” 

Another hum, another squint. Felix rolls his eyes, despite himself. He knows Sylvain takes his work seriously, and the results are always amazing, but the sun is beating down on his neck and he’s still feeling uneasy being this close to the statue. He keeps his eyes away from the statue, arms crossed over his chest. Annette’s still resting a hand on his shoulder for balance, despite having a clear space on the statue’s platform. Sylvain continues to circle slowly, checking angles through his camera’s lens. After what feels like an eternity, he makes a happy noise. 

“Come to this side with the eyepatch, and keep your eyes closed.” 

Annette’s hand leaves his shoulder and Felix all but lurches away, unsteady. He cuts a look to the others, but Sylvain’s too busy directing Annette into position to have noticed. 

He hates this feeling, bubbling in his stomach, unease prickling his skin. 

“I’m going to go grab a water,” he grits out. 

Sylvain just gives him a thumbs up, other hand occupied with his camera, and he marches away with a curt nod. 

He stays in the shade the jeep provides, watching Sylvain and Annette from afar. With the distance, all he can clearly see is the stark brightness of their hair against the greens and greys surrounding them. The statue itself stands out amongst the ruins, standing tall and at the ready. 

Felix hates it. 

By the time Sylvain’s helping Annette down from the platform, it’s well past lunch time. Their plan is to snag food on their way back into the city, and he hears Annette and Sylvain discussing options as they approach. Sylvain’s eyes land on him, worry creasing his brow for a bit. 

“Are you alright? Overheated?” 

Felix shrugs, truthfully unsure. It’s a surprisingly warm day considering the season, but he doesn’t think he’s overheated.

“Damn, I didn’t think to give you the keys so you could sit in the air conditioning.” 

“You can sit up front, Felix!” Annette says, practically hopping over to press the back of her hand to his forehead. “You do feel a bit warm, you should get the direct blast from the air.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he argues, but Annette’s insistent, crawling into the backseat before he can protest more. Sylvain slings an arm around his shoulder, patting him twice as his other hand digs the keys out of his joggers. 

Felix settles into the front as Sylvain gets his equipment put away. He does feel slightly better as he cranks the air conditioning up, shifting one of the vents so Annette can have some relief in the back, which earns him a bright smile and a cheek kiss as she leans up to speak. 

“Sylvain and I were trying to figure out where we should get lunch.” 

“It’s more like an early dinner at this point,” Felix says, smiling slightly when Annette huffs. 

“It’s the second meal we’re eating—it’s lunch.” 

“Linner,” says Sylvain, pulling himself up into the driver’s seat. 

Felix narrows his eyes at him. “What?” 

“Lunch and dinner. Linner. Like brunch.” He pauses, shooting Felix a cheeky grin. “Dunch?” 

“Stop talking and drive.” 

“Claude would laugh.” 

Felix snorts as Sylvain gets the jeep pulled back onto the dirt road, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes go back to the ruins, where the statue stands amongst the greenery, a frown tugging his lips down. “Claude would pity laugh.” 

“Hey, that still counts!”

**.**

Despite Felix’s best efforts, his thoughts keep spiralling back to the statue. He does his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth through his lectures and classes, trying to push through studying, but all he can think about is Tailtean and its ruins. 

It culminates into Felix going on a deep dive online, searching through random articles and historian publications on equal footing, trying to piece together just what the hell happened. There’s a woman who’s dedicated most of her young adulthood to making a video series about the history of Fodlan and its unification, about the Adrestian Flame Emperor who helped push out a tyrannical head of the Seiros church to help bring peace and prosperity to the land. 

Felix doesn’t bother watching any, just skims through them. He vaguely recognizes her name from hearing it from Ashe, whose younger siblings seemed to really prefer her to others who make videos about the same topics, and while he texts him about her, his answers are solely about _how_ she makes her videos, not why.

He feels like Sylvain, pushing aside his actual work to do in depth research on a subject he doesn’t even like. He ends up almost asking Claude if he knows anything about the Tailtean Plains, but by the time that thought fully forms, he’s found a research paper dedicated to a battle taking place before an estate was built on top of the field by a professor at Garreg Mach University.

Besides, he knows Claude would just tell Sylvain, and that’s not something Felix wants to deal with. 

Even with all of his research, he can’t find any true specifics about what exactly happened at the battle. It’s one of the final battles in the Unification War, but Felix can’t find any names on who fought besides the Emperor of Adestria and their most trusted generals. Even then, the Emperor’s name is never listed, simply named the Flame Emperor in every instance they come up. He’s not even sure where the statue comes into play, who exactly it’s supposed to be besides some old enemy to Adrestia. 

Felix manages to get through his week, barely, and by the time he’s out of his final lecture on Friday, he’s called Glenn, asking him to meet up for an early dinner, a request already formulated.

They’re sitting in a slightly crowded cafe a few miles away from Felix’s apartment, close to the campus. Glenn’s left the office early, his tie already discarded, his pressed button down rolled up his arms. He’s retying his hair when Felix asks his question. He lets his hair slip free, falling around his shoulder in waves as his hands freeze.

“You want to _what?_ ” 

“Borrow your car,” Felix states, voice wavering as he repeats himself. 

Glenn stares at him, blue eyes narrowed. On the table between them is the bubble tea Felix has purchased to ease this, but Glenn’s suspicious, attempting to peer into his soul to figure out just what Felix needs with _his_ car. After another moment, he shifts, a slight scoff falling from his lips as he gathers his hair back up.

“Why don’t you ask Dad for his car?”

“I am _not_ driving his minivan around.”

Glenn rolls his eyes. “Felix—“

“Just for the weekend,” he says. “I just want to take a day trip out of the city.”

“Didn’t you _just_ go on one last weekend?”

“I went with Sylvain and Annette to hover while Sylvain took photos for her.”

It doesn’t take much more for Glenn to relent. He had always had a hard time telling Felix _no_ when they were younger. It used to be because of the immedining threat of tears and snot if Felix was told no, but now it’s out of years upon years of affection for him. It helps that Glenn doesn’t _need_ his car for the next two days, and could borrow Holst’s if needed. 

Felix is handed the keys outside of Glenn’s apartment on the other side of the city, an eyebrow raising as soon as the carabiner’s resting on Felix’s palm.

“Just don’t let Gautier drive it. I’ve seen how he drives that jeep.”

“That’s just the jeep, not Sylvain’s driving,” Felix says, curling his fingers. “But I won’t.”

He suffers through a hair ruffle and an overly affectionate cheek kiss before he’s released from Glenn’s grasp, the smirk on his brother’s face telling Felix he will never know a moment’s peace.

He doesn’t tell anyone about his true plan for day one of the weekend. He just texts Ingrid telling her he won’t be at their weekly brunch, which results in Mercedes asking if he’s feeling unwell. He brushes off their concerns, going through his standard morning routine of a run to burn off the nervous energy that’s been brimming since Glenn gave him the car keys.

It takes him far longer than he’s ready to admit to actually build up the courage to actually _leave_. Anticipation bubbles into nerves that result in him pacing through his apartment. By the time he calls himself out for his cowardice, it’s early afternoon, the drive to Tailtean promising to take longer than anticipated. 

Felix, by far, is the worst driver amongst his friends. By the time he’s managed to get out of the city, he’s certain he’s pissed off more people than the ones who angered him. He takes the backroads almost immediately, following the directions his phone gives him, resting in the holder on the dash.

Glenn’s ridiculous sometimes— _most_ times when it comes to Felix, he supposes. If there was anyone he shouldn’t want driving his car, it would be Felix, but he does his best to not completely fuck up and steer the car into a ditch. Even though by the time Felix reaches the ruins, his fingers are sore from how tightly he’s been gripping the steering wheel. 

He pulls the car off onto the shoulder, taking in a few deep breaths as he puts it in park, slowly climbing from the car. It’s quiet; when he shuts the car door behind him, it echoes across the area, making him wince.

He crosses his arms over his chest as he stalks across the grass, ignoring the stones and spots Sylvain had painstakingly picked out for Annette’s photos. The thing he’s aiming for is clear, standing upright and out of place amongst the rubble. 

"This is so stupid," he mutters, the only response birdcalls. 

The day’s not that much different than it had been last weekend. It’s late enough that all of the tourists have gone, the sky painted in reds and oranges as the sun starts to set over the horizon. There’s not a sign of any other person for miles, the only thing surrounding them is nature that’s overgrown the ruins around him. 

He stands before the statue, scowling up at it, having no idea why he feels so compelled to be here.

The statue is well made, the attention to detail impeccable. If Felix knew anything about art, he'd probably feel more impressed by it. There's even a few strands of hair separated from the rest, brushing against the statue's forehead as if being blown by the wind, a person stuck in the midst of time, left to stand on his own against an enemy Felix can't fathom.

He's not sure why, but when he looks at the lone eye carved into the marble, he feels like it looks. . .sad.

"Fuck." He feels his face burn, frantically looking around. No one's randomly appeared, the sun is still setting. Felix grabs onto the statue's arm that's outstretched to hold the lance, hefting himself up onto the platform. 

While there’s enough space for both feet to stand firmly, there’s no _extra_ space. He’s pushed right up against the statue, hands awkwardly resting on his chest before Felix realizes and feels his face burn. He hastily moves his hands, one grabbing the lance right above the statue’s for balance, the other wiping the sweat clamming up his palm on his jeans.

He has no idea why he’s so nervous. He had watched Sylvain crawl all over it, slinging over its back to press a disgustingly wet kiss to its cheek before Annette’s picture. The photo she had taken with her phone to send to Claude is still lingering in their group chat, a _fan favourite_ according to Sylvain. 

Nothing had happened then, nothing will happen now. Felix knows the legend is just a stupid, whimsical rumour. He has no idea why his fingers are twitching, nerves alighting in his veins and making him jittery. 

A quick cheek kiss. That would satiate his wild obsession. A quick cheek kiss, and he could go home and never think about this stupid statue again. 

He reaches up, the fingers curled around the lance dropping as he hesitates. He’s being outright ridiculous, with how nervous he is. It’s a myth—a legend that holds no basis. He lets out an indignant, huffed breath, angry at himself, at this statue, for being the only thing he’s been able to think about for the entire week. He presses his palm flat to its chest, over an indented part of the carving’s armoured breastplate. Gooseflesh runs up his arm and he tilts his head to stare at the prickling along his skin. 

He doesn’t let himself second guess. He leans up on his toes, pressing a quick kiss to the cheek of the statue and settling back on his heels. 

He has just one second, one singular heartbeat to exhale, and then a loud _crack_ echoes around the quiet ruins. His ears ring as a bright light blinds him. He stumbles, toppling backwards.

Right before he’s certain he’s going to hit the ground, hands grab him, the bite of metal digging into the skin of his arms as he’s twisted around. He lands atop something that’s distinctly _not_ the ground, a soft _oof_ filtering into his ears as the ringing fades, arms steadying him around his waist.

He pushes himself up, fingers digging into the grass and dirt. He’s half leaning over a person—a person who looks _identical_ to the statue. A blue eye shimmers up at him through a messy mane of golden hair, eyepatch slightly askew from the fall.

“Felix. . .” 

His face grows hot at the pure reverence uttered in the soft whisper of his name. A hand cups his face, so _large_ against his cheek, the smile on his lips small but bursting with pure affection. 

“You came back to me.”

Felix’s eyes widen, lips parting in disbelief. Cold runs down his spine as he shifts, ignoring the hand on his face to look over his shoulder at the statue—

Only to be met with its empty pedestal. 

His heart thumps in his chest, threatening to break through his ribs. He almost snaps his neck to look back down. 

“Oh Saints,” he hisses, scrambling up to his feet. He looks between the man, still laying down, encased in armour, staring at him as if Felix holds the sky upon his shoulders. “Fucking _Flames_.”

There’s a sigh, the man leaning back against the ground. “The sky. . .A long time has passed, hasn’t it?” A soft, contemplative hum. “I can’t be sure exactly what’s happened, but that it’s been a while is obvious. It was raining back then.”

“Wha— _what?_ ” 

“Have you come to kill me on her behalf? I fear I do not know if I have it in me to face you now.”

“Kill you?” Felix’s voice hitches, and that blue eye darts over to him. 

He watches as confusion fills his face, as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. His brows furrow as he looks over Felix, lips parting as his head tilts. Felix has to resist crossing his arms over his chest—the way that gaze drifts over him, taking in his outfit and expression, makes his face burn. 

“What in the _world_ are you wearing, Felix?”

“Wh—?” He stops, hands curling into fists at his sides, nails biting into the flesh of his palms. “Wait, shut up. How do you know my name?”

“Your name—?” He rises to his feet in an elegant motion, unbefitting someone who had just been a statue moments before. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head in the fall?”

Felix stares at him, unsure what expression he’s making, but the man takes a step forward, spreading his hands, the clawed tips of his gauntlets catching the sun just right. Felix looks down at his arms, seeing the angry red marks where those claws had dug into his skin. 

“Felix, it’s me,” he says. Felix glances back up, narrowing his eyes. “Dimitri?” 

Felix takes a second, taking in a breath. “I don’t know who you are,” he snaps, lifting a hand to point at the pedestal. “You were a statue _three minutes ago_.” 

“I—. What?” 

Felix shakes his head. “There’s always been this stupid legend about the statue—that it would wake up if—,” _if its soulmate kissed it._ He chokes on the words, clearing his throat and trying again. “It would wake up if certain circumstances were met. You woke up.”

“Woke up. . .” 

He sounds mystified, staring at the base. He walks towards it and for a second, Felix thinks it’ll be fine. That the statue will climb back up and revert back, that this cruel twist, a sick joke from a goddess he doesn't believe in, will be over. 

But instead, the man— _Dimitri,_ he had said his name was—just rests a palm against the base where he had stood, seemingly hunching in on himself. He looks massive, all broad shoulders and heavy, furred cloak, but when he speaks, it’s in a broken whisper. 

“What did that accursed woman do to me. . .?”

There’s another moment, where Felix just watches. Dimitri leans over to pick up the lance that had clattered to the ground when they fell, hefting it easily in his arms. His shoulders tense, and he lifts his head, looking around the clearing and the plains beyond. His eye skirts over Felix when he turns, landing heavily on the ruins around them, before he turns the full force of his gaze on Felix, eye holding far too much emotion for Felix to process.

“These ruins. . .What are they? Where are we?”

“We’re at the Tailtean Ruins,” Felix states. “The legend—the legend said that you were a statue made to represent a battle that took place here, like a thousand years ago.”

“ _Thousand years?_ ” There's nothing that prepares Felix for the hitched breath, the pure, unadulterated terror that fills Dimitri’s face. He takes a step forward, shaking his head, the hand not holding the lance trembling before he curls it into a fist at his side. “That’s impossible—you wouldn’t be here if it had been that long.”

Felix stares. His brain is still processing everything. He tries to think back on one of Mercedes’ study sessions, where she went over things aloud to them, so she could remember it better. He can’t dreg up enough to remember clearly if he’s going into shock—but it certainly feels like that.

“I don’t know you,” he states, carefully, trying to keep his voice even and unjudging, lest this man, covered in dirt and what Felix is hoping isn’t dried blood, holding a _weapon_ he is clearly capable of using, decide Felix is an enemy he has to take care of.

Dimitri stares at him, stepping forward again. His gaze roams over his face, searching— _yearning_ —for something Felix cannot give him. A moment later, his face crumples, brows furrowing, lips twisting in a quest to hide a frown.

“You don’t,” he whispers. “You actually don’t.”

All at once, his heart kicks back up, body finally reacting. He’s not sure if it’s the heartbroken way Dimitri’s voice breaks, or the look on his face, like a kicked puppy, but Felix can’t stand it anymore. The longer they stay here, the more danger they’re in. He whirls on his heels. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Wh—?”

“We have to get out of here. _Now_.”

There’s no logical way for him to explain to anyone that he had woken a statue up, and an _honest to Seiros_ person had walked out of the ruins alongside him. He doesn’t have to wait a moment longer before he hears the steady crunching of boots on the ground behind him. 

“Where—where are we going?”

“To my—to _Glenn’s_ car. I’m taking you back home. I can’t have you wandering around these ruins by yourself.”

“Glenn?” 

His voice has choked again. Felix tosses a look over his shoulder, frowning as they cross under the half-broken arch that leads them out of the ruins. Dimitri’s staring at him, eye wide, lips parted in shock. 

“My brother,” Felix says. “He let me borrow his car.”

“No, I—.” Dimitri huffs. “I know Glenn is your brother—he’s alive?”

“ _What—_?” Felix trips over his feet at the sudden question. He doesn’t have a chance to attempt to right himself before a hand is gripping him, tugging him back upright. He stumbles back against Dimitri, the hard metal of his chest plate knocking the wind out of him. 

“Are you alright?”

Felix wrenches out of his grip, heat bursting across his face. “I’m _fine_ ,” he grits out. “Glenn is fine, too. Obviously!” He shakes his head. “Just—hurry up.”

Dimitri hums, seemingly more off put by the topic than by Felix’s gruffness. 

Almost as if he’s used to Felix. 

The thought makes his skin feel hot, chest tightening. He glances over, and as soon as he does, he regrets it. Dimitri’s staring right at him, and when their eyes meet, his lips twitch into a small, nervous smile. 

Felix looks away, huffing another breath. This man—this _warrior_ , claiming to be from a battle eons ago, knows his name. Knows about _Glenn_. 

_If you’re soulmates,_ he hears Annette’s chipper tone say, _he’ll wake up!_

He just wishes that when he had, Dimitri had come with an instruction manual. 

**.**

Dimitri’s muddied armour sits on the floor of Glenn’s backseat. The compromise from argument the two had gone through while Dimitri sat in the passenger seat, seemingly terrified beyond belief as Felix drove them back, was that his armour stays in the car, but the lance can come inside. Felix has enough swords lining his walls that no one will bat an eye at the addition, but having a full set of body armour would raise a few eyebrows.

Not that he plans to let anyone else into his home before he comes up with a way to explain just how the fuck Dimitri is alive, sitting in his apartment.

Felix orders them takeout as soon as they arrive, Dimitri immediately wandering the apartment, still holding his lance, apparently ready to brandish it if an enemy appears.

Dimitri has hardly any idea what anything in his apartment is for, besides the sword decorations and running water. Had he not witnessed Dimitri coming to life, he’d be more frustrated at the lack of common knowledge, more angry at the questions Dimitri asks as he paces around. 

The questions instead just leave Felix with a sinking feeling in his stomach as he tries to find the best way to clean mud out of upholstery. 

_You remember nothing of the last time we met?_ We met when you almost crushed me falling off that statue pedestal. _And the others?_ Others? _The ones you fought with—Byleth?_ I have no idea who you’re talking about. 

Dimitri’s mood doesn’t exactly sour, but it worsens the more Felix can’t answer. He seems to retreat into himself, sitting in front of the empty fireplace with the lance still in his grip. He eats when dinner arrives, only due to Felix forcing the plate onto him and telling him to. 

Felix has a headache by the time he’s finished eating. He’s resorted to texting Sylvain the best way to get mud out of Glenn’s backseat, no clear answer on how a _statue_ came to life, nor what he’s supposed to do with this new person sitting in his living room. 

Dimitri’s still quiet as Felix washes their dishes. His phone buzzes at one point, the only other sound besides the running water, but Felix ignores it until he spots Dimitri shifting, rising to his feet. Felix had made him leave his boots in the doorway and his woollen socks hardly make a sound as he walks across the wood floor. 

Felix doesn’t move, scrubbing at the plate in his grasp. He watches Dimitri in the corner of his eye as he rests the lance against the wall, the metal barely clanking against the display rack of swords.

“I am sorry, Felix.”

The plate slips out of his grasp, clattering to the sink. Felix scowls, collecting it. “Why are you apologizing?”

“You did not ask for whatever that woman did to me,” he says. “If I could handle this myself, I would, but I cannot. So, I am sorry.”

Felix rolls his eyes, setting the plate aside on the towel with the other dishes. “You don’t need to apologize for that. Sothis only knows what would’ve happened had I just left you at Tailtean.”

He doesn’t miss the way Dimitri winces at the mention of the Plains. He doesn’t question it, though, shutting the water off and peeling his gloves off. He refuses to tell Dimitri just _why_ he’s woken up—that Felix kissing his cheek set off a reaction neither one could prepare for. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says, glancing up.

Dimitri startles, slightly, blinking, before he dips his chin in a quick nod. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Dimitri’s mouth opens, closes. His throat works for a moment as he seems to pick over his words. When he speaks, his voice is quiet.

“I was on a battlefield,” he says, words slow. “It was pouring rain. Byleth raised her hand and there was this bright light—almost like a Thoron blast, but more concentrated. Then there was. . .nothing but blackness around me. Like I was stuck in a void.”

Felix grips the counter so tightly his knuckles bleed white. He takes a steadying breath, trying to count to ten before he gives up and turns to Dimitri. He’s looking anywhere but Felix, eye darting around and settling in place briefly before flittering elsewhere. 

He forces his fingers to relax, palms pressing flat against the countertop. He looks down at his fingers, seeing Dimitri in his peripheral. “A battle,” he repeats. “For what?”

Dimitri’s quiet for a long moment. “For peace,” he says. “Adrestia attacked the Church of Seiros.”

_The Unification_. Ancient history, something Felix barely gives any thought to, but Sylvain’s always obsessed about it, and Claude just adds fuel to the fire whenever they talk about it.

Felix looks over to him. Dimitri is still looking away, his hands wringing in front of him, fidgeting like he wants something in his hands. Felix follows the way his darting gaze lands on the lance before retreating, feeling a frown tugging at his lips.

“So, you have no idea what’s happened. Since that battle.”

Dimitri meets his gaze, dropping it after a moment to dip his chin in a nod. 

Felix nods himself, moving around the counter to head to the living room. Dimitri follows. After a few moments of fussing with his TV, he has a video series pulled up, one he had skimmed over in his quest to learn more about the statue that Dimitri had been. He shows Dimitri how to work the controller, settling him down on the couch. Dimitri hardly looks at the screen, his focus solely on Felix. It does nothing but help him feel embarrassed, but he powers through.

“I need to go shopping,” he tells Dimitri, _and try not to panic,_ “so since you have a lot to catch up on, these should. . .help. Probably.” He selects the first in the series of _Unifying Fodlan: An Indepth Look_ , the thumbnail showcasing the country divided into three separate colours. 

Dimitri still isn’t looking at the screen. Felix does his best to ignore it as he tries to map out just where he can go buy him clothes despite how late it’s getting. 

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Felix tells him. “I’m going to get you some new clothes.”

He moves to walk away, but Dimitri’s hand snakes out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Felix startles, looking to him, startling even more when he sees the slightly panicked look on Dimitri’s face.

“An hour?” he asks, voice hitching.

Felix nods, swallowing the lump that’s building in his throat. “An hour. These videos are half an hour long, so you’ll get through two of them by the time I’m back.”

Dimitri huffs a small breath, his eye darting over Felix’s face. “Promise me?”

Felix stares at him for a moment, glancing down to the grip on his wrist before he looks back up. Dimitri’s _tall_ , built like a true warrior, but how he sits on Felix’s couch, he looks small— _scared_. 

It’s been so overwhelming for _Felix_ that he hasn’t even stopped to consider just how awful this has been for Dimitri. 

He carefully reaches his other hand out, peeling Dimitri’s fingers off his one by one. 

Felix can remember the last time he felt as terrified as Dimitri looks. He had been nine, Glenn freshly of age to get his license. The car accident that had almost killed him had taken place days after their father had given him a car. Felix had been a nightmare—inconsolable and crying every time he saw Glenn laid up in the hospital bed. The only one who had been able to soothe him, to get his tears to stop, had been Sylvain, promising that he would never let Felix die alone, sealing it with their looped pinkies.

It feels. . .comical, almost _patronizing_ to do it now with Dimitri, but when he holds his pinkie out, Dimitri’s eye widens at the sight before emotion crashes over his face. His own meets Felix’s, almost dwarfing his by comparison, but as soon as they’re entwined, he seems relieved, a soft smile tilting his lips, looking more nostalgic than anything else. 

Felix doesn’t let himself think on if Dimitri’s made pinky promises to someone he believes is Felix before, but based on his expression, it might be true. He swallows, his words coming out more terse than intended. 

“I promise. An hour. You need better clothes.”

Dimitri nods, slumping back against the couch, letting Felix go. He’s just slipped out the doorway when he hears the video start, the introduction of the woman being cut off after Felix hears her introduce herself as _Edelgard Hresvelg._

He looks at his phone for the first time in twenty minutes. Sylvain’s sent him a detailed list on the best way to get mud out of upholstery, followed with an overuse of sad emojis at the thought of Felix going on an autumnal hike without him.

Felix simply tells him he didn’t go on a hike, pocketing his device before he can look at whatever new convoluted scheme Sylvain and Claude can think up over why Felix got mud in the backseat of Glenn’s car. He doubts either of them would ever be able to guess the right answer, but the two of them together usually escalated situations far beyond what Felix thinks he can handle right now. 

Most of the clothes Felix owns, he’s purchased online, or on reluctant trips out with the others. He knows the shops Dedue and Sylvain frequent are his best bet for finding clothes for Dimitri. He gets some odd looks as he goes through the racks, browsing through clothes and differing sizes. Everything he goes to is completely different than his skinny jeans and the oversized hoodie he’s wearing. He has his phone in hand as he looks over different shirts, trying to piece together what could best translate to the heavier, padded clothes Dimitri had been wearing under his armour, wondering if he would prefer nicer looking clothes compared to Felix’s usual outfits.

He gathers what he assumes will be best—big sweaters and button downs that would hopefully fit. The total price makes his eye twitch, but he passes his card over without saying anything to the salesclerk, who seems more than thrilled to finish their transaction without any unnecessary small talk. 

He hopes his father doesn’t bother going through his credit card charges. He knows his father wouldn’t be _mad_ , but there would be questions, odd looks from Glenn before he’s interrogated over his choices of clothes shopping at stores he’s hardly ever looked at before.

He has a couple bags in the backseat, resting on the seat properly, the armour still staring up at him when he slings them behind the driver’s seat. 

Felix is early, technically. By the time he’s unlocking his front door, it’s barely been forty minutes. He hears the TV still going, the voice of the woman in the midst of explaining the corruption that had infiltrated the Church of Seiros before Fodlan’s unification. 

Dimitri is just _staring_ at the screen. Felix moves cautiously, setting down the bags and letting the armour fall out of his arms to the floor, clanking together in a loud crash that Dimitri doesn’t even flinch at. 

Felix approaches, carefully. He’s on Dimitri’s blind side and he loops around to be in his peripheral, watching his body language carefully. He’s tense, jaw working, expression flickering between sadness and anger, pure confliction plain on his face.

“Dimitri?”

There’s a sharp _crack_. Felix looks down, seeing the console’s control, still clutched in Dimitri’s hands, now crushed. 

“What the _fuck_ —“

“Edelgard,” his voice comes out mostly as a gasp. “She’s alive. Edelgard, she’s—she’s _alive_.”

Felix stops short, looking between his broken controller, to Dimitri’s face, and to the screen. Edelgard Hresvelg sits in front of a plain background, her face neutral as she holds her hand up, gesturing to the other side of the screen where graphics are showing different factions of divide across Fodlan. 

“You know Edelgard?” he asks.

Dimitri makes a noise, more like a wounded animal than the growl of a beast. His hands are still clutching the controller pieces, plastic crunching in his fists. “She looks like she did when we were children.”

Felix makes a face, looking back to the screen. He has no idea _who_ this woman is, outside of the context of her videos. Ashe says she attends Garreg Mach University, hours to the south. She looks more put together than others he’s seen that attend GMU—her brown hair is neatly tied up, her shirt looking crisply pressed as she talks in a tone that’s neither enthusiastic, nor bored and monotone. 

He looks back to Dimitri. The anger is gone from the tightness in his shoulders, resignation slumping his spine a bit.

“What does that mean?” he asks. “You. . .knew her?”

A dip of his chin, a partial nod. “Her mother was my stepmother. Her hair turned white when we grew older. I never found out why before. . .” He trails off, and looks down, startling when he sees the plastic carnage in his hands. “Oh—.” He looks to Felix, and Felix has only known this man for a few hours, but already knows an apology is on the way. 

Felix doesn’t let him, already tired of hearing the word fall from his lips. “I bought you new clothes. You can shower and change out of— _that_.” He gestures to the dirty clothes Dimitri’s in. Even knowing they’re to help with the weight of the full suit of armour he had been wearing, they look ridiculous. Felix isn’t going to deal with him waltzing around in them. “Don’t worry about the controller, I have another one.”

Dimitri still looks down at his hands, that lost, sad puppy look on his face. Felix rolls his eyes, all but marching over and taking the device from his hands, tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Come on. You need to shower, you smell awful.”

“I suppose a bath would be smart, given the circumstances,” Dimitri murmurs, following Felix quietly as he leads him to the bathroom. 

Dimitri at least understands how running water works. Felix leaves him the bags of clothes and leaves him to shower on his own as he slips back out into the living room, trying to process just how today’s gone. While Dimitri’s bathing, he readies the couch with pillows and blankets, getting rid of the broken controller, all while his thoughts spiral to mages and ancient magic. 

Edelgard’s face is still on the screen when he turns to shut the TV off, paused where Felix had left it, her face calm, but her eyes betray the excitement of whatever she’s discussing. 

He stares at her, trying to find even a sliver, an _ounce_ of familiarity in her face, but there’s nothing. He shakes the feeling off, shutting everything down. He’s trying to piece together a plan for the next day when the bathroom door creaks open and Dimitri steps out.

Every word Felix has thought of speaking in the past twenty minutes dies on the tip of his tongue. Dimitri’s dressed in the soft, flannel sleep clothes Felix had bought. His hair is damp, falling along his jaw in wet strands. The eyepatch has been discarded, showcasing the paler, scarred skin that laces his right eye closed. 

He stands unsure of himself in the doorway, hands fiddling with the buttons on the deep blue shirt, eye glancing to and fro. Felix isn’t sure if the red dusting his cheeks is from the heat of the shower, or a blush.

They make brief eye contact. Felix’s face bursts with heat, spreading to burn the tips of his ears as he wrenches his gaze away. 

Felix had been attempting to come up with a plan. Dimitri can’t obviously go anywhere else—he’s stuck with Felix, as Felix is stuck with him—but Felix still has classes and things to do outside of the apartment. He tells Dimitri as such, as he sits on the edge of the couch, watching Felix with his attention solely focused on him.

“You have always been strict with your schedule,” Dimitri tells him, when Felix has run out of words, settling for crossing his arms over his chest.

The declaration brings a scowl to his face. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, but you don’t know _me_. I don’t care if you knew someone who looked like me, I’m just _me_.” 

Dimitri blinks at him, an unreadable look crossing his expression, before a small smile tilts his lips. “Right. Of course. My apologies.”

He groans. “I’m going to shower and go to bed. Get some sleep.”

“Of course,” Dimitri repeats. “Good night, Felix.”

He pauses, taking in a breath. He doesn’t look over his shoulder—he doesn’t need to to feel the burning gaze of Dimitri’s eye boring into him. He exhales, slowly, tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Good night, Dimitri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crawls back to dimilix five months later to peddle my wares in your streets


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fe, when the fuck did you get a— _lance_?” 
> 
> Sylvain stops short, a hand on his bag. He had been looking over his shoulder at where the lance is still propped up next to Felix’s coats, but as soon as he swings it around, his eyes land on Dimitri. 
> 
> Dimitri, who has that damned look on his face again, trembling like a lost puppy as he takes a step forward.
> 
> "Sylvain. . ."

When Felix’s alarm goes off, informing him it’s time to get ready for his run, he’s been awake for an hour. 

The sun isn’t shining, not yet, but there’s pale light from the early dawn wisping through the gap between his curtain. Felix lays on his back, a hand splayed across his stomach, the other gripping his phone in hand, staring up at the dust motes that are floating around the room.

In the living room, he can hear Dimitri’s sharp intake of breath when the alarm goes off. The careful padding of his feet as he tries to assess if there’s some random assailant that’s gotten past him. Felix doesn’t look towards the door, but he senses when Dimitri comes close to the small crack in it, checking in. There’s a low exhale, a relieved sigh that slips past his lips, before he shuffles back away.

The few hours of sleep Felix had gotten weren’t restful. He’s survived on less, but he knows he’ll be extra cranky today, which isn’t what he or Dimitri needs. He has his doubts Dimitri’s slept at all. A feeling in his gut tells him he’s just been patrolling through the apartment all night, that damned lance in hand.

Felix lets his phone drop to the mattress, sitting up. He stretches his arms up, letting his joints pop and settles as he rolls his head to relieve the strain on his neck.

He’s not going for a run.

He climbs from bed, pushing the door the rest of the way shut to change, tugging on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt he’s almost certain once belonged to Sylvain, but he snagged from Annie’s. 

When he pushes out into the hall, he’s unsurprised to see Dimitri awake, standing next to the sliding doors that lead to the porch. The sky is painted shades of pale pink and purple, colouring Dimitri in gentle pastels as he stands, staring across the city that’s just starting to wake up. He’s not holding the lance. His hands are folded neatly behind his back.

He’s not stupid enough to think Dimitri hasn’t noticed him, but he says nothing, his gaze still out on the city. 

Felix has no idea what Fhirdiad looked like the last time Dimitri set his eye on it, but he knows what he sees out the windows isn’t what he knows—or wants.

After a moment of just watching Dimitri’s steady back, listening to his slow and even breathing, Felix turns, heading to the bathroom to wash up. When he’s finished, Dimitri still hasn’t moved, but he _does_ speak.

“Good morning, Felix.”

His voice is low, not sleep thick, but gravely all the same. Dimitri turns when Felix just grunts, the hint of a smile twitching at his lips. It’s un _fair_ how put together he looks. He’s only wearing a pair of the jeans Felix bought, the denim clinging to his calves and thighs, the sweater paired with it a plain, deep blue knit that makes his striking blue eye look even brighter in the dim light of dawn.

“Did you sleep well?” Dimitri continues, once again not put off by Felix’s bad attitude. 

“Fine,” says Felix, slipping into the kitchen to start working on breakfast. He pauses with his hands around a pan handle, glancing back. 

Dimitri’s gaze hasn’t left him, burning and always _too much_ , but when Felix meets his eye, he has the decency to glance away, the smallest hint of a blush colouring his cheeks. 

“What about you?” he asks, and when Dimitri looks back, puzzled and surprised, Felix tacks on, “Sleep well?”

He already knows the answer and knows a lie is coming by the way Dimitri shifts his weight, clearing his throat. That pale blush is darkening, his cheeks going a dusty rose before bleeding into a deep merlot. 

“I slept—” Dimitri’s voice halts, his lie falling before he can even finish it at the narrowed look Felix gives him. “—adequately,” he settles on, a nervous smile on his lips. “I have had worse nights.”

“Being in a strange place in the future can do that to you, I guess.”

“Indeed,” Dimitri murmurs. 

Felix busies himself with making breakfast in lieu of trying to keep up a stilted conversation. He’s not a great chef, but he gets by, able to hold his own. A breakfast of eggs and bacon is something he knows anyone could make. Dimitri hovers, much like last night, unsure what he can do. Every time Felix glances to him, he’s fiddling with the sweater, plucking at the hem or where it bunches along his slim waist.

By the time they’re eating, the sky’s brightened, orange meeting bright blue as the city wakes properly. It’s Sunday, and he’s not expecting to do much today besides when he goes to drop the car off at Glenn’s, so he’s content with taking his time with breakfast, watching Dimitri carefully eat as if scared to break any of the cutlery. 

Based on the seventy dollar controller Felix had to toss out last night, he can appreciate the caution. 

He gets a text from Glenn when he’s started to clean up, collecting their plates. The message is simple but still sets anxiety into knotting in his stomach. _Holst and I will swing by to pick the car up instead of you dropping it off._ He knows it’s simpler that way—it’s on Holst’s way to his sister’s, instead of Felix having to go out of his way, but he knows Glenn will probably want to stay longer than it takes to just pick the keys up.

He eyes Dimitri from where he’s hovering next to the kitchen, eye still wandering the apartment, wondering if he could just shove him in the bedroom for a bit, or if that would make Dimitri’s anxiety skyrocket. 

_Probably the latter_ , he thinks with a sigh, and dumps their dirty dishes in the sink.

“Is everything alright?” Dimitri asks.

“It’s fine,” Felix says. 

It’s not. Nothing is fine with everything that’s happened. He woke up an ancient statue that knew a past life and has no idea what he’s going to do about it besides let Dimitri live on his couch. 

It’s not _fine_ , but he’s managing. 

He’s broken out of his rapidly derailing train of thoughts by his phone buzzing again, shimmying across the table while it rings. He frowns, prepared to tell Glenn off for a two minute warning, but it’s Annette’s face that’s on the screen and his shoulders unknot, just a bit.

“Hey.”

“Felix!” She sounds hyper already and he huffs at it as she greets him with, “Good morning!”

“Is it?”

“Ugh, you’re awful.” Even with her declaration, Annette's voice is still bright and chipper, despite the crackle of the phone. "Did you hear the news? Someone took the statue from the ruins."

Felix feels his jaw work as he tries to formulate words, eyes staring at Dimitri as he peers curiously at Felix's bookshelf, finally done with awkwardly questing for something to do. "What?"

"The statue," Annette repeats, "that you wouldn't let me kiss. It's gone."

"Gone."

"Uh huh! I've been trying to look up just _what_ happened, because the press is trying to spin it as the legend coming true, but I think someone just went and stole it."

Felix hums, unable to think of anything else to say. He moves to his bag as Annette continues, telling him the theory Dedue’s come up with of someone wanting to sell it to a museum in Enbarr, but Felix is barely paying attention. He pulls his laptop out, humming along to Annette at the right moments, answering her _are you even listening?_ with a distracted _uh huh_ while he settles back at the table. Right above the laptop screen, he can see Dimitri pluck a book from the shelf, reading over the back of it with a pensive frown. 

There’s not _much_ talking about the statue’s theft. He wonders what Annette had to look up to dredge up the articles on it, but he sees one titled _Beloved Statue of Legend Stolen from Tailtean National Park Ruins_. 

Annette makes an angry sound, huffing a breath. “ _Felix_!”

“What?”

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“I am,” he says, eyes skimming over the article. _Statue gone in the middle of the night. No trace or idea of where it could’ve gone._ “You said something about your baking.”

Annette makes another angry noise, affronted. “Jerk! Call me back when you’re actually going to listen!”

“ _You_ called _me_ ,” Felix points out, but it falls on deaf ears as Annette hangs up on him. 

He frowns at his phone but sets it aside, exiting the article to pull up the next. He goes through a few more. No one has any idea of what happened. The park ranger had done a routine patrol the morning before and by the night patrol, it was gone. 

The comments on the articles are all chalked full of the same nonsense that causes Felix’s face to burn, all honing in on how the statue wasn’t stolen, its soulmate had found it at last.

Felix looks up to Dimitri, who’s plucked a new book from the shelf, one Felix _distinctly_ knows used to be Sylvain’s, based on the cover’s artwork. He makes a choked noise, slamming his laptop shut, startling Dimitri.

“Is everything—?”

“Everything’s _fine_!” Felix stomps over, snatching the book from his hands. “I need to know how Sylvain’s books ended up here.” He glances over to the shelf, eyes narrowing. “And how many he’s managed to slip in.”

Dimitri chuckles at that and the sound makes Felix freeze in place, shoulders tightening, ears _burning_ as he looks to him. Dimitri’s covering his mouth with a palm, but the way his eye crinkles at the corner tells him enough. 

Felix is too startled to be angry that he’s being laughed up. Dimitri hasn’t looked at ease _once_ since Felix had landed atop him on the ruins of Tailtean Plains, but he’s standing in Felix’s room, dressed in a too-tight sweater, _smiling_. He’s like the sun like this—radiant, but deadly for Felix if he keeps looking.

His chest feels like it seizes as Dimitri’s eye meets his and he turns away, muttering under his breath of how there’s _nothing_ funny about Sylvain taking up space in his home. 

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen Sylvain’s antics get you this flustered, Felix,” Dimitri tells him, still sounding amused. 

Felix wants to be angry at that. too, wants to snarl and spat that Dimitri has _never_ seen him get upset at Sylvain’s antics, but his tongue will not cooperate. He shoves the book haphazardly back from the spot Dimitri took it from, eyes sharp as he looks over his the rest of the bookcase. 

There’s at least four of Sylvain’s collection on the shelves and he all but stomps back to the table, prepared to call Sylvain to scold him, but he receives a new text from Glenn, two seconds before there’s heavy knocking on the door. 

Dimitri looks up, the smile gone from his face, wariness crashing over his expression like a wave to the shore. Felix sees his eye dart to his lance and he steps between it and him, lifting his hands. 

“It’s just my brother,” Felix states. “Stay here and don’t say anything. I don’t need him spotting you.”

Dimitri looks to him, blinking. “Your brother? Glenn?”

Felix scowls as another set of heavy handed knocks land on the door. “Stay here,” he repeats, pushing past Dimitri to head to the front door, grabbing the keys from where he left them. 

He opens the door to see Holst and Glenn on the doorstep. Glenn’s drowning in one of Holst’s heavy jackets, the day obviously promising to be chillier than the day before. Both greet him as if they’ve been awake for hours—which they probably have been, knowing Glenn’s own running routine—but Holst is holding a cup of coffee in his hands like it's a lifeline.

Before Glenn can burst through the doorway as usual, Felix blocks the door with his foot, holding his hand out with the keys proffered on his palm. Glenn stops short, eyes narrowing, the icy blue of them going from his palm to crawling up to his face. An eyebrow quirks.

“What is this?”

“Your car keys,” Felix states. “Take them and go.”

Glenn’s glare is nothing short of lethal. He takes a step forward but Felix stands firm, unbudging from the way he’s got the door propped half-closed. 

“Fe—“ Glenn’s eyes dart away, landing on something beyond Felix and he tenses, ready to shout at Dimitri, but when he follows his gaze, his eyes land on Dimitri’s ugly, furred boots, caked full of mud and whatever he had faced on that battlefield before becoming a statue. 

Glenn’s eyes meet his, the gears clearly turning, lips curling into a smirk that tells Felix he’s in for a long, _long_ teasing session. He chucks the keys at them before Glenn can say anything, watching as Holst scrambles to catch them and slams the door in his brother’s face.

“ _Felix Hugo Fraldarius!_ ”

“Go _away_ ,” Felix calls, bolting the door and sliding the chain across as he listens to Glenn’s spare key slide into the lock. “I’m _busy!_ ”

“ _Oh, you definitely are!_ ” says Glenn, muffled through the door. “ _Let me in!_ ”

“ _Go away_ ,” Felix repeats. 

He hears muttering, Holst obviously trying to deescalate the situation before there’s a sharp thud on the door. 

“ _Bye, Fefe,_ ” Glenn coos. “ _I love you_.”

Felix makes a noise of disgust, rolling his eyes, but he listens as the two walk away. His phone’s buzzing before he’s even left the doorway and he scoops it up to read over Glenn’s demands of meeting his _mystery partner_. 

He doesn’t bother answering, leaving his device on the table. Dimitri’s still standing next to the bookshelf, the happy look from earlier completely gone, replaced by a pinched brow and tormented frown.

_He’s alive?_ had been what Dimitri asked when he had heard Glenn’s name. Which tells Felix that whoever he knew in his past, _his_ Felix, had lost Glenn. 

He swallows the lump that lodges in his throat, emotion threatening to choke him. He’s _almost_ lost him. He can’t imagine his life without his annoying older brother. 

Felix exhales, counting his breaths.

“Alright, come here. We’re going to find some more history videos for you to watch.”

There’s silence as Felix goes to get the console set up and when Dimitri _does_ settle on the couch beside him, he’s still quiet.

“Are they. . .going to be Edelgard’s?”

Dimitri sounds so hesitant, like the name is painful for him to speak. Felix looks at him from the corner of his eyes, trying to gauge his reactions.

“Do you want to watch Edelgard’s?”

Another moment. Dimitri’s hands fist on his thighs, but he leans back against the couch, settling in.

“I. . .I would like to, yes.”

Felix hums, glancing to the TV. “Then we will.”

**.**

Felix is awake when his usual _get up for class_ alarm goes off. He hasn’t been awake nearly as long as the day prior, but it’s been long enough that he’s hunched over his laptop, typing excuses to his professors on why he’s going to miss class that day. 

Leaving Dimitri completely alone on what is objectively his busiest day would result in nothing short of a nightmare, he knows. He’s not sure Dimitri knows how to cook, or if he’d be able to handle things without breaking, so he plans to go for a run to make up the past two days and then head out shopping.

Plus, he probably needs to buy Dimitri a new eyepatch if they’re going to go out in public. 

Felix finishes his emails, leaving his laptop on his bed as he dresses in a pair of leggings and running shorts. He tosses a vest over his running shirt and slips out of the bedroom. 

Dimitri’s laying down on the couch, still in his sleep clothes, but it’s obvious he’s been awake for a while, too. The lamp in the corner is on, a book in his hand as he lays on his back with his other arm shoved under his head. He glances up when Felix walks out, sitting up, but Felix rolls his eyes, pushing on towards the front door.

“I’m going for a run.”

“I thought you had class?”

“I’m not going to class today.” They had spent an hour the night before going over Felix’s schedule, and Felix has his weekly one written out on the fridge now. “We need to go shopping to make sure you have food you can eat when I go tomorrow.”

Dimitri’s scrambling up from the couch. “I could go with you, if you want—“

“It’s just a run,” Felix says. “We’ll both be going out later. I’ll be back in an hour.”

A look overcomes Dimitri’s face, one that Felix doesn’t _want_ to interpret. He turns to tug his running shoes on, staring decisively at the laces as he ties them so he doesn’t have to look at Dimitri. 

“An hour,” he repeats. “Put the chain on the door once I’m gone. If anyone else comes by, don’t let them in.”

Dimitri’s brow furrows, but he nods. 

Felix is sure Glenn _wouldn’t_ show up at his home at six thirty in the morning, but he’s not putting it past him, especially with the amount of unanswered texts Felix has on his phone from him, trying to piece together if Felix had just hooked up with someone or not. 

His mind is still racing while he runs on his familiar route. Dimitri just being with him is a _thing_ now and while he’s slowly coming to terms with that, he has no idea how he’s going to explain it to the others. Felix had woken a statue up with a cheek kiss—a statue that had a spell or curse laid on it that claimed that the only way to wake it up was for its _soulmate_ to kiss it awake. 

Felix’s longest relationship was a two week stint with Annette their first month of college, before Annie had met Dedue and Felix realized maybe he wasn’t fully capable of love. He’s witnessed most of his friends find their footing with stable relationships, even Sylvain, who had declared at eighteen he would never fall in love with anyone, has been doe-eyed for Claude since the day they met. 

Felix isn’t sure he’s capable of being anyone’s first choice—anyone’s _soulmate_. 

Fhirdiad is waking while Felix runs, idle music playing through his headphones, breath puffing in front of him in wisps of white clouds, distracting him enough from his spiralling thoughts. The sky lightens slowly, the winter sun rising over the horizon as he follows familiar foot trails. The streets are crowded, early risers rushing to get to work, sidewalks starting to fill with commuters on his way back to the apartment. 

Dimitri opens the door hesitantly when Felix arrives home, slipping the chain out of its place as soon as he confirms it’s Felix. He’s fully dressed now, hair brushed and shimmering in the low light of the entrance way, blue eye as bright as the noonday sky. The lance is resting next to the coat hooks by the door, and Felix eyes Dimitri for a moment as he steps inside, wondering if he stood guard at the door the entire time.

“No one else came by,” he informs him, as if he _has_ to report to Felix as he leans against the wall to slip his shoes off.

Felix just nods along, sweaty and wanting nothing more than a shower. “I just don’t want Glenn showing up and being an overall harassment.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, in a tone that tells Felix he doesn’t understand at all.

“I’m going to shower and then make breakfast. We’ll head out later.”

By the time Felix is done showering, Dimitri has tidied up the couch as best he can. Felix isn’t surprised—he had seen the messily folded blankets the day before. Sylvain would have an aneurysm at the sight, but Felix just moves on to the kitchen, digging through his measly groceries to make another simple breakfast for them. 

Felix’s plans are simple: go buy groceries, return straight home. Dimitri listens to him intently as he tells him, answering every question Felix asks about his cooking skill—which is limited, at best. 

“It does not matter too much!” Dimitri says, when Felix scribbles out a few ingredients on his list. “Taste is not important to me.”

Felix frowns up at him. “You should be eating what you like. I just want to make sure you can handle breakfast and lunch on your own on Wednesdays and Fridays. I’ll be home by eleven tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter and we can just get takeout for dinner.” He peers down at his list, before glancing back up to Dimitri. “How do you feel about Almyran?”

Dimitri blinks at him. “I. . .do not think I’ve had Almyran before.”

“That’s what we had for dinner on Saturday,” Felix states. “The spicy dish.”

“Oh!” Dimitri smiles at him. “It was good. Very. . .tingly.”

His pen clatters to the table top, brow pinching as he looks to Dimitri, mind already racing with allergic reactions and how to handle them. “‘ _Tingly?’”_

“I cannot taste food, Felix,” says Dimitri, all casual, as if it’s a fact Felix should know. “I could feel the spiciness, though.”

“You can’t _taste_?” 

Dimitri nods. “I have not been able to since childhood.” He tilts his head, considering. “Perhaps I never told you that back then, either.”

Felix narrows his eyes, but goes back to his list. There’s not much to buy—mainly vegetables and foods that Dimitri can eat without having to touch the stove or microwave. Breads and treats that would normally make his nose crinkle, but Dimitri seems excited at the prospect. 

He’s unsure what to expect at the store, on edge as they walk through the midday crowd to the supermarket a few blocks away. He’s never done well with crowds, and with Dimitri’s hulking figure a pace behind him, he’s expecting it to be worse. He’s expecting stares, maybe even some random history buff noticing that the man walking with Felix is the same as the missing statue. Even beyond that, he’s expecting Dimitri’s eye to get stares—he had brushed his hair and tied half of it back, leaving the scar clearly on display, looking as off put with the idea as Felix felt with the entire outing.

Inside the store is slightly better. Midday on a Monday isn’t a time for ample crowds in the store, so they’re able to go through the aisles without garnering too much attention. Dimitri gets some lingering looks, which doesn’t surprise Felix. He’s tall, with shimmering golden hair, a smile that knocks the breath out of his lungs every time they meet gazes. Not to mention his shoulders are accentuated in the button down Felix bought that ended up being too small to _button_ leaving him in a skin tight undershirt. 

Dimitri’s pushing the tiny cart through the aisles while Felix dumps the food he selects it into. They can’t get _too_ much, since they’re carrying the bags back to the apartment, but he gets enough to last the week, stopping by the pharmacy in the back corner of the store to grab a box with an eyepatch in it to add to their collection.

They get through the checkout without much hassle, the cashier looking bored and exhausted, going through a monotone script of polite small talk before they just settle in silence to scan all their groceries. Dimitri insists on carrying three of the four bags, two nestled against his chest while Felix hugs the last one to his as they make their way back. 

It’s peaceful, in a way Felix hasn’t expected it to be. Dimitri insists on helping put things away, asking curious questions about the _contraptions_ in Felix’s kitchen, including the electric kettle in the corner of the counter that he uses to make them both tea. The lazy afternoon sun bleeds into early evening, the chill more pronounced as the glass of the windows start to frost, the promise of the season’s first snow clinging in the air. 

It’s not cold enough to warrant getting a fire started, but it’s cold enough to settle under one of the heavy quilted blankets Mercedes had given him, Dimitri settling on the couch with another one of Sylvain’s books in his hands. Felix hasn’t touched his phone for hours, opting to work on the assignments his professors had emailed him, his favourite one attaching a picture of a cat meme hoping he feels better soon.

It’s _nice_. Felix can’t stop the unsettling feeling that twists his stomach into knots that it shouldn’t be. He also can’t stop his gaze from drifting above his laptop’s screen, landing on Dimitri, who is thoroughly absorbed in the cheesy romance of the story he’s reading. Felix’s face fills with heat when his eyes drop as Dimitri bites down on his bottom lip, teeth worrying the skin to a pink that Felix struggles to look away from, back to the paper Professor Flayn’s sent him that he _needs_ to get through.

Dimitri’s not focused on him. Felix knows this, but his pulse still thrums, nerves making his fingers twitch from where he’s settled them. The only time Dimitri’s eye leaves the book is when Felix stands up sharply, letting the blanket pool at his feet. When it’s clear Felix is just heading to the bathroom, he hunkers back down, oblivious to the pounding in Felix’s chest, his heart seeming fit to burst through his ribs at a moment’s notice.

Felix takes a moment, just leaning back against the door, trying to calm himself down. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, the red blush burning along his face and throat and scowls at it, marching forward. He splashes cold water on his face, taking in deep, steadying breaths. 

_Soulmates_. He can’t stop focusing on that word, that idea. He has no plans any time soon to tell Dimitri about the legend, about just how he was woken, but he knows he’ll have to eventually. Eventually, he’ll have to—

Through the bathroom door, Felix hears the front door open, muffled. He curses himself for not putting the chain up, the bathroom door slamming open as he hastily tries to get to the entranceway. Dimitri’s already on his feet, already at the ready, but the voice that calls out from the doorway isn’t Glenn’s.

“Fe, when the _fuck_ did you get a _—lance_?” 

Sylvain stops short, a hand on his bag. He had been looking over his shoulder at where the lance is still propped up next to Felix’s coats, but as soon as he swings it around, his eyes land on Dimitri. 

Dimitri, who has that damned _look_ on his face again, trembling like a lost puppy as he takes a step forward.

"Sylvain. . ."

Sylvain's panicked stare lands on Felix, who grits his teeth. 

"You remember Dimitri," he states, trying to keep his voice flat as he gestures over to him. Sylvain knows all his tells—if he tries to lie, he'll get caught.

Sylvain’s brows furrow, just a bit, as he looks between them, before comprehension dawns on his face.

"Right!" he exclaims, relief palpable. "Good to see you again, buddy!" He pats Dimitri on the shoulder. "So sorry about last time, I was _so_ drunk I barely remember the night! Good thing Claude takes such good care of me, yeah?"

Felix pinches the bridge of his nose. "What did you need, Sylvain?"

“Glenn said you were acting weird yesterday.” Sylvain’s easy smile widens. “And then you didn’t go to class and since you haven’t answered _any_ of my texts, I figured I’d abuse spare key privileges.”

Felix snarls, earning a laugh from Sylvain, who quirks his brows as he looks over to Dimitri.

“Did you guys have dinner plans?”

“Oh—ah—.” Dimitri still hasn’t found his voice yet as he stammers. Sylvain takes it as an invitation far too quickly, slinging an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders to tug him to his side. 

“Perfect!” he declares. “You can come out with me and Claude—we were going to go to Raph’s.”

“No,” Felix says. “I have class tomorrow—“

Sylvain isn’t listening. “We’ll pick you two up at six! Early dinner for an early morning, right?”

“Sylvain, that’s in an _hour_ —“

“Enough time for you two to get dressed, yeah?” 

Sylvain winks. Felix sees red. Dimitri is still standing, silent. 

“‘Kay!” Sylvain takes their silence as agreement. “I’ll see you guys in an hour. That lance is yours, right, Dimitri? Looks nice—can’t get over this weird courting ritual you two have going on, but you do you—“

“Syl _vain_ —“

He’s gone before Felix can yell at him, out the front door. The slam echoes through the quiet apartment, until Dimitri breaks it, sounding helpless as his voice cracks. 

“‘ _Courting ritual?_ ’”

Felix’s hands are balled into fists at his side, face twisted in a scowl. “I’m going to kill him.”

**.**

Felix had his fair share of assumptions about how the night was going to go as soon as Sylvain and Claude had shown up on his doorstep, all obnoxious smirks and overly familiar gestures. As soon as Sylvain had an arm around Felix’s shoulders, he had tugged him close, narrowing his gaze as he hissed, ‘ _Claude says he’s never met a Dimitri in his life, who the fuck is he?’_ into Felix’s ear, only frowning when Felix said nothing but shoved his weight off. 

Dimitri, for his part, is far less emotional upon seeing Claude than he had been Sylvain, though there’s still that air about him, that he’s chalked full of sadness hidden behind taut smiles.

Now, though, they’re sitting crammed together in one of the pleather booths of _Raphael’s_ , their jackets tossed over the back. Dimitri’s on his right, trying to make himself look smaller as they’re pinned to their seats by Claude and Sylvain’s stares.

Felix hates them both.

“So, Dimitri,” Claude drawls. “Tell me again where you work?”

“You're as bad as Glenn,” Felix snaps, before Dimitri can fluster an answer. “Leave him be.”

“What?” Claude bats his eyes, trying for innocence. Felix has known him—and Sylvain—far too long to be swayed. “We’re just trying to get to know him.”

“Sylvain already knows him,” says Felix. “It’s not Dimitri’s fault he was shit faced.”

“Okay, in my defense,” Sylvain begins, lifting his palms, “I literally don’t remember him.”

Dimitri makes a soft sound, clearing his throat carefully. “You did spend a lot of time telling me about you and Felix, and a certain death pact.”

Felix freezes, feeling a rush of heat run over his face. Sylvain’s smile freezes in place, blinking, before he lets out a shaky laugh, colour rising high on his cheeks. Claude just gives Sylvain a _look_.

“Did I?”

“I thought it was admirable,” says Dimitri.

Felix’s eyes narrow towards him. He hasn’t _told_ Dimitri that story and has no idea how he knows. 

He’s grateful, in that moment, that both Sylvain and Claude are looking at Dimitri instead of him. He has no idea what expression is on his face, but he’s certain it’s not one that would be well welcomed.

Claude breaks the silence first, a lone eyebrow lifting. “You thought a death pact made by a nine and eleven year old was _‘admirable_.’” He lifts his hands as he talks, making the air quotes, disbelief clear in his tone.

Dimitri just tilts his head. “You don’t?”

_That_ makes Claude’s eyes snap over to Felix, but he ignores him, opting to give his attention to his drink instead. After another moment, Sylvain sighs.

“Okay, okay, so we probably met. Again, I’m sorry I was plastered and don’t remember it—but you have to realize how out of character this is for Felix to just show up with some dude none of us really know.”

“ _You_ showed up at _my_ place,” Felix states, glaring at him. 

Sylvain throws him a look, one that’s equal parts pitying and placating, all parts irritating. “You couldn’t have told us you were seeing someone?”

“I am _not_ ‘seeing someone,’” he all but growls. “Goddess, you’re both insufferable.”

“Fe—“

“Stop interrogating him,” Felix snaps, an order. Claude rolls his eyes, as if _Felix_ is the one being unreasonable here. “He just got here this weekend, okay? I didn’t want him to be stuck on his own here by himself yet so that’s why I didn’t go to class.”

None of what he says _isn’t_ true, which must be why Sylvain’s expression morphs into something softer, more friendly. His smile curls wide when he turns back to Dimitri.

“We are being asses, aren’t we?”

“What else is new?” Felix mutters.

“Hey, I’m _trying_ to make amends!”

“Uh huh.”

Dimitri muffles his laugh with his palm, and when Felix’s eyes slide over to him, he’s looking straight at him, affection plain in his eye, causing Felix’s face to burn. He turns away with a scoff, fiddling with the straw wrapper. He catches the look Sylvain and Claude exchange, which just fuels his scowl.

“Anyway, sorry, Dimitri,” Sylvain finally offers, an olive branch. “I’m sorry. Let’s start this night over, okay? How’s Felix’s place been treating you?”

“There’s been quite a selection of books to read,” Dimitri tells him, and Felix startles at the teasing tone in his voice, directed at someone _else_ for once. 

A pinch forms between Sylvain’s brows before he blinks, realization widening his eyes. “Aw, fuck, you found them?”

Claude snorts, a snicker falling from his lips as he pushes at Sylvain's shoulder. “Two months—I win.”

“Were you two _betting?_ ” demands Felix.

“Fe, you _never_ read fiction books!” Sylvain exclaims. “I wanted to see how long it would take!”

“He had twenty bucks saying it wouldn’t be before half a year,” Claude says, looking far too delighted. “I said it’d take less than three.” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sylvain spreads his hands out. “Does it count if _Dimitri_ found them?” 

“Yes! Obviously! Pay up, Gautier.”

“I fucking _hate you two_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri’s just going to be continuously distressed and sad that none of his friends remember him with every friend he re-meets 


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. “Dedue stayed with you?”
> 
> Dimitri’s shoulders tighten, but after an exhale he relaxes them, nodding. “Only Dedue.”
> 
> “Not Annie?”
> 
> Dimitri glances to him, his expression close to breaking again, unshed tears starting to make his eye shimmer in the firelight. He shakes his head. “Not Annette.”

Felix can barely focus during his two lectures as he goes through them in the morning. He feels numb, like he’s out of his own body as he sits through them, retaining none of the information his father’s _paying_ for him to learn. He counts down the minutes, waiting until he’s free to leave campus, planning to only to make one extra stop before going home.

Professor Flayn is one of the few professors Felix has ever bothered to pester during their office hours. Felix feels unreasonably guilty for missing a class with her, but he does, so he makes his way across campus to her office, finding her right where he expected. He thanks her for sending him what he needed in the same sentence he apologises for missing her lecture the day before. 

She welcomes him in with a wide smile, her green hair swept up into a braided bun atop her head, loose strands falling around her face to cover her ears. Her voice is light and lulling as she asks if he’s feeling better, brushing off his apologies as if there’s nothing to forgive.

“Stress migraine,” is all Felix grits out, and she nods solemnly, understanding.

"Did you get the picture I sent with the email?" she questions, her enthusiasm back. "I know you like cats, so I thought it was the perfect meme!"

Felix snorts on a laugh, nodding. Hearing her say the word is completely different than just seeing the picture tacked onto an email. "It was nice."

Flayn beams, obviously pleased. "I'm glad!"

All things considered, her class shouldn’t be his favourite. It’s just an additional credit he needed, coerced into an art history class by Sylvain to just fluff his studies a bit. But Flayn has always been fierce and stubborn, gentle when it’s needed. She’s deeply passionate and while she seems younger than most of the other professors, it’s obvious in her lectures just how much she’s studied. Her eyes hold an otherworldly look to them, as if she’s seen much more of the world than she claims to have. She offers Felix a seat that he takes as if drawn by a spell, settling into the plush cushion.

He’s always been at ease in Flayn’s office, but when he spots what article her computer’s pulled up to, he freezes, feeling like he’s just fallen face first into a snowbank.

_Still No Leads on Stolen Statue_.

Flayn’s in the midst of offering him a sweet when she notices Felix’s gaze. “Oh! Have you heard about the statue? You and Sylvain went to the ruins a few weekends ago, didn’t you?”

Felix has no idea how she knows that, but assumes Sylvain must’ve mentioned it. Flayn’s one of _his_ favourite professors, too. “He wanted to take some photos there for one of our friends.”

Flayn hums, taking the sweet she had offered back when it becomes clear Felix isn’t going to take it. When she looks at the screen, a look overcomes her expression. Had he seen it on her face last week, Felix wouldn’t have been able to place it, but it’s an unsettling nostalgic look he’s seen on Dimitri’s face more times than he can count over the past few days. 

Felix almost chokes at the realization, but his eyes dart over her head. There are multiple pictures lining the wall of Flayn with her father on fishing trips, and while he doesn’t see any childhood ones, he doesn’t think anyone would willingly hang their own childhood photos up in their place of work. 

When his eyes drop, Flayn’s smiling at him, and he feels his face heat. 

“My cousin is fond of the statue,” she says. “We used to take trips out when we were younger to go visit him.”

_Him_. Another chill rushes down Felix’s spine at the designation. It’s not that out of place—Annette and Sylvain had both tossed _it_ s alongside _him_ s when they were at the statue, but hearing it in Flayn’s cadence makes him feel like his world is cracking open.

“Felix? Are you alright?”

He shakes himself out of his stupor, pushing himself from the chair. “I have to go. Thank you, again.”

Flayn blinks up at him, but she smiles regardless. “Alright. Have a good day, Felix.”

He nods idly, already on his way out of her office, attempting to convince himself he’s reading into things that don’t exist. “You, too.”

By the time Felix is unlocking the apartment door, he’s mostly calmed down. Dimitri’s dressed and ready for their outing, but he must sense something’s off with Felix’s mood. He’s still twitchy, mind reeling from over the top conspiracy theories his anxiety has created. Dimitri looks him over as Felix states that they’ll have a full day for the afternoon. When Dimitri speaks, his voice is calm, a suggestion that Felix knows he won’t be able to deny on his lips.

“Should we have tea first?”

Felix debates for a long moment, before nodding. He watches numbly from the table as Dimitri gets the kettle going by himself.

“Did your classes go well?” Dimitri asks, leaning back against the counter as they wait for the water, and Felix’s breath catches in his throat at the sight.

It’s not _fair_ , how effortlessly handsome Dimitri looks. Felix has never given a flying _fuck_ over his own looks, but Dimitri’s just casually standing in the kitchen, looking like he’s been gifted to the world by Sothis herself.

Which, based on the fact that a week ago he was a _statue_ , he might have been.

“They went fine,” he manages, after a moment too long. Dimitri’s already started frowning by the time he gets the words out, halting and unsure. “I just—.” He shakes his head. “They went fine. There were only two.”

Dimitri doesn’t believe him, based on the continued frown, but he doesn’t question him further.

“How has your reading been?” asks Felix. 

Dimitri hums, letting Felix change the subject. “It’s interesting. The language used in these stories is. . .unique.”

“‘Unique,’” Felix scoffs. “All you’ve been reading are Sylvain’s smutty books.”

Dimitri snorts, covering the lower half of his face with a hand. The tips of his ears are pink, and Felix has to smash down the desire to get up and tug his hand away to watch the rose colour along his face. 

“I wasn’t expecting those scenes to be so. . .frequent.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “There’s plenty of book shops off campus, if you want to stop by some of those today.”

Dimitri considers for a moment, but before he can make a decision, the kettle beeps. He gets their tea ready in silence, letting Felix fester in his thoughts. He almost tells him, when Dimitri is leaning over the table to place a mug in front of him. _You’re my soulmate. That’s why you’re awake. You think I’m someone completely different than I am, and I think my professor might know you._

The words leave a taste of ash on his tongue. He swallows them down. 

They finish their tea in relative quiet before they embark for the day. Felix had decided early on showing Dimitri the historic district of Fhirdiad _might_ make him feel a bit better. The city’s spread out, completely built up, but at its heart sits the university’s campus in the midst of the _old town_ , where the streets are narrow and cobblestone.

Felix spends most of his week in the city’s centre. The university encompasses the grounds of what was once a king’s palace, but Felix has never paid it much attention besides going to and from his classes. Sylvain’s spent most of his time photographing the campus, convincing their friends to take their pictures in the _most aesthetic_ parts. 

But even then, Sylvain doesn’t look around with nearly as much reverence as Dimitri does.

Dimitri wears the new eyepatch Felix had gotten him, a modern, medical grade one that had been forgotten last night in the hecticness of Sylvain and Claude all but kidnapping them. He looks _normal_ , like a tourist, or even a fellow student at the college, dressed in one of the sweaters Felix had gotten, hands in the pocket of a denim jacket. Felix can’t tell what he’s thinking, unable to garner anything from his profile, but his jaw is loose, lips parted slightly, not an ounce of tension in his shoulders.

“Dimitri.”

Dimitri glances to him, slightly startled. He blinks, and his expression smoothes over to one Felix wishes he wasn’t used to seeing on his face. Fondness crinkles the corner of his eye, lips tilting up into a small, slanted smile. 

“My apologies,” he says. Felix barely resists scoffing at that as he glances back to the school. “I was lost in thought.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s expanded,” Dimitri says. “Though I suppose it would have to, to hold a school. It amazes me that both the castle and what was once the Royal Sorcery Academy are all collectively underneath this—university, is what it’s called?”

“The campus is large,” is all Felix tells him in answer. “C’mon. I promised Annie I’d still meet her later for lunch, so we should move on if you want to see more of the historic district.”

“Annie. . .” Dimitri trails off, lips in a frown, before his expression lightens. “Annette? Annette Dominic?”

Felix closes his eyes, huffing out a breath. With every friend he names that Dimitri _recognizes_ , the more nerve wracking and jumbled his thoughts get. He relents with a tiny nod, though and Dimitri’s smile widens.

“That’s wonderful.”

“She’s not going to be what you think she is.”

“I understand,” Dimitri tells him, eye sharpening just a smidge. “It will still be good to see her.”

“She won’t know who you are.”

“ _Felix_.” Exasperation laces through the sigh of his name. “I can still look forward to seeing her. The last time I saw her. . .Well. I’ve already told you as much.”

Felix jolts, whirling on him. “You’re telling me _Annette_ was on that damned battlefield?”

“We all were,” Dimitri states, as if it’s more than common knowledge.

“Annette’s not—. She wouldn’t be a ruthless killer.”

“She wasn’t.” His tone goes wistful, eye hazing as he gets lost in whatever cursed memories he has of his last moments before being turned into a statue. He blinks it away after a moment, smiling down at Felix, though his lips pull tight. “It’s not worth dwelling on the past—“

“ _Your_ past.”

“—we should continue on.”

They leave the historic district, crossing streets to head towards the tea shop Annette’s picked out for their brunch. He hadn’t wanted to go, but he’s always been incapable of telling Annie _no_. Plus, since Dimitri’s already met arguably the _worst_ of his friend group, Annette wouldn’t be awful to have a quick snack with. She’ll be curious, but she can at least be subtle in person.

It’s their group chat he’s worried about, but so far, Sylvain and Claude have been quiet in it, probably to save him from Ingrid’s wrath.

Felix doesn’t want to think about it.

The streets get more crowded the closer they get to the cafe. Annette’s been texting him periodic updates, which are just now her claiming to be waiting—with heavily implied foot tapping impatience.

When they round the street corner, Felix is still looking at his phone, but Dimitri stops short, almost tripping over his feet. Felix glances to him, confused, but he hears Dimitri’s soft, agonized, “ _Dedue?_ ”

Felix has half a second, a singular heartbeat, to notice how Dimitri’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of Dedue, standing next to Annette. He whirls, looking up, seeing the emotion crashing over Dimitri, the way his eye starts to tear up, lips trembling. He's seen how Dimitri reacts to those he recognizes, the misty-eyed stare, but _this_ is completely different. He freezes like a deer, his expression collapsing in on itself. 

Felix glances over—neither have spotted them yet. He grabs Dimitri’s elbow, growling a gruff, _come on_ , under his breath and tugs him away, out of sight.

The alley he stumbles into, Dimitri in tow, is small, smelling of things Felix doesn’t have time to think about. His nose wrinkles at the scents, but he turns to Dimitri, still holding onto him, lips parting to ask him what’s so wrong with seeing _Dedue_ of all people, but the words get caught in his throat as Dimitri lets out a noise that’s more of a swallowed down whimper than a sob.

Dimitri crashes against him, arms winding tight around Felix’s waist, holding him close as his body starts to tremble. 

Felix tenses, heart kicking rapidfire in his chest. His arms lock up, thoughts racing. Out of everyone, _Dedue_ sets off this reaction? 

He swallows, lifting his arms, stiff as they are. He gently wraps his arms about Dimitri’s neck, hushing him as softly as he can, eyes on the end of the alley where people pass by without even glancing their way. 

Dimitri nuzzles closer, his sobs muffled into the fabric at Felix’s throat while Felix squeezes a fist against his shoulder, the other resting against the nape of his neck, soft strands brushing along his knuckles.

“Dimitri, you have to calm down,” he says, as Dimitri’s sniffling gets louder, his face pressed into the hollow of Felix’s throat, tears warm on his skin. “Dimitri—“

“ _Dedue—_ “ is all Dimitri manages, voice choked, before a new sob wracks his trembling frame. His hands dig tighter into the fabric bunched at Felix’s back, nails threatening to tear through it.

Felix’s entire body is thrumming with nerves, telling him he _has_ to calm Dimitri down, _has_ to take care of him, but he has no idea _how_. Felix was always the one blubbering through tears in his childhood, always the one _being_ consoled. He hardly remembers what used to get him to stop besides running to Sylvain or Glenn for hugs, but hugging Dimitri isn’t doing _anything_.

He lifts the hand he has pressed against Dimitri’s shoulder blade, lifting it to gently card through the loose hair underneath the small ponytail he’s got half of it tied up into. Dimitri shudders, his breath catching on a hiccup, face still pressed against Felix’s neck. He _feels_ more than hears Dimitri’s choked apology, whispered against his skin, over and over. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry—what did I do, Felix? What could I have done?_

“Dimitri— _Dimitri._ ” His fingers tighten in his hair slightly, the pressure just enough to cause his rambling to stop. “There’s no need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Could I have saved them?” Dimitri sounds _agonized_ , his voice wobbling. He draws back just enough to peer at Felix through his tear-clumped lashes, salt tracks plain along his reddened cheeks. His hand releases its death grip on Felix’s shirt, steadily climbing to cup Felix’s cheek, his face still tortured. “Could I have _stopped_ you?”

Felix’s lips part, but he has no idea what he can possibly say to that. Dimitri’s face is still crumpled, tears still making fresh trails down his cheek. Felix swallows, gaze dropping as he lifts his own hand, sliding his fingers between Dimitri’s where they still rest against his face. He takes a breath, looking up, holding eye contact even though it’s the most painful thing to do.

“I’m not leaving you, Dimitri,” he says, slow and careful, making sure Dimitri _understands_. “I’m staying right here.”

A fresh wave of emotion crashes over Dimitri and he drops their hands to burrow against his neck again. Felix holds him with one arm, tugging his phone out of his pocket with the other. 

He has five new messages from Annette, one from Dedue. He sends Annie back an apology, tacking on: _we got sidetracked, won’t be able to make it_. It’s only when his phone buzzes with a message full of question marks that he’s realized he added Dimitri in the excuse without a second thought. 

He swallows the lump welling in his throat, shoving his phone back in his pocket, curling his other arm around Dimitri and pressing his nose to his shoulder.

“I’m staying right here,” he repeats. 

**.**

"We stood against one another." 

Felix stops short, glancing over. Dimitri sits in front of the fireplace, watching the flames dance within the bricks.

It’s been hours since they returned home. Dimitri had gone to shower to tidy up while Felix had decided it was cold enough to light a fire. He’s forgone checking his phone, opting to study quietly at the table. As soon as Dimitri emerged, he went to the fire, grabbing blankets and pillows to settle in front of it, and he’s been there since. 

He has that look of nostalgia on his face again, though the smile on his face is decidedly sad. Felix doesn't know what to say. The statement was barely more than a whisper, breathed into the crackling hearth. He doesn't even know if Dimitri intended for him to hear it. He watches his profile, the sharp cut of his jaw, the scars sealing his right eye shut, for another moment before looking back down to his textbook.

He can't focus on anything he attempts to read, but he doesn't need to worry for long. After a moment, Dimitri sighs, shifting to resettle against the bedding he’s nested in, the warm light from the fire flickering across his face.

"I never truly expected it," he says, his voice still soft, focus still ahead of him. "The only one who stayed with me was Dedue. I couldn't fathom why you all would go with _her_ , on her path of ruin and destruction."

"I—." Felix stops, hesitating. He doesn't know what to say—what Dimitri _means_. "What are you talking about?" He winces as soon as it's out of his mouth, the question sounding more like an accusation.

A ghost of a smile tilts Dimitri's lips up, and he turns, just slightly. Brilliant blue burns into Felix, gaze heavy. 

"Edelgard wanted the world to change.”

_Edelgard_. Felix’s fingers clench into a fist, looking away. He lets out a soft exhale, thinking over what Dimitri’s divulged—which hasn’t been a lot, yet. It hasn’t helped that Felix hasn’t _asked_ , though Dimitri hasn’t seemed too keen to share. 

It’s reasonable, though, if Dimitri had been fighting against Edelgard on that battlefield. His reaction to her, to Dedue, the first words he spoke to Felix in the ruins of not having it in him to fight anymore. . . All of it was starting to make more sense than Felix wanted it to.

“I wanted the world to change, too,” continues Dimitri. “I suppose we were always close to having a common goal, but we were both too young and stubborn to talk it out with one another. I don't remember much of what happened after—I was just. . .floating in this darkness. I remember the battle vividly, but there was just this void. Sometimes I'd hear voices, but never ones I wished for. I didn’t realize time was passing, but it obviously was. It gave me time to think. About the war, about you and the others leaving Faerghus. "

Felix scowls, his sympathy dissolving on the spot. "I'm not the person you think I am." He doesn't care if this man knew someone who looked like him, who had his name. He's himself, damn it all. "I'm just _me_. I'm not who you—who you _want_ me to be."

"No," Dimitri agrees, readily. "You're not the Felix I knew. It's unfair to call you as such, but that doesn't mean I haven't grown to care for _you_."

Felix's face burns. There’s a sharp moment of quiet between the two of them as he wills the blush covering his face to go away. 

“So, you knew all of us. Or. . .versions of us. That’s—. We’ve been over this. None of us are who you think we are.”

He’s stating what they both already know, but he needs to, just so he can feel in control of this wildly, uncontrollable situation. It’s been days, though the adjustment period of having a statue turn into a man who seems to know every aspect of _who_ you are is longer than Felix wants it to be.

“I know that,” Dimitri says, an answer to his statement. “Even as painful as it is, I understand. This place is completely different than how it once was.” He glances over to Felix, the smile on his face fragile. “I wonder. . .” He trails off, eye trailing over Felix, peering into the depths of his soul.

Felix scowls, a blush heating his face as he looks away, tersely snapping, “Wonder what?”

“Had you succeeded in your goal to fell me that day. . .Would I have been born again here? Would we be what we could never allow ourselves to be?”

The tips of his ears are burning now. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Ah—.” That smile again—the one that Dimitri gives him when he’s trying to placate Felix, equal parts teasing and understanding. “Never mind. It is unimportant.” 

A lie, one so plain that even Dimitri looks away in shame at it, curling his knees back up to his chest. 

Felix hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. “Dedue stayed with you?”

Dimitri’s shoulders tighten, but after an exhale he relaxes them, nodding. “Only Dedue.”

“Not Annie?”

Dimitri glances to him, his expression close to breaking again, unshed tears starting to make his eye shimmer in the firelight. He shakes his head. “Not Annette.”

Felix frowns, looking away. “We should—.” He stops, takes a breath. “We should get ready for bed. You’ve been having trouble sleeping on the couch, right?”

“I do not believe the couch is at fault,” Dimitri says, his smile still fragile, but _trying_.

Felix flicks his eyes in a roll, despite not having the heart in it. “It’s uncomfortable. We can—. My bed’s big enough. More comfortable. We can share it.”

Dimitri blinks, obviously not expecting that. “Are you—? Are you certain?”

He huffs, starting to clean up. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. Hurry up.”

Despite what Felix ordered, Dimitri’s ready before he is. Felix’s anxiety kicks up part way through his shower, which means he takes his time getting dressed, taking extra time when he flosses just to kill time and to prove a point to his hygienist the next time he goes to the dentist. By the time he’s heading to the bedroom, Dimitri’s already inside, standing awkwardly, looking completely unsure what he should do as he holds his hands in front of himself.

Felix rolls his eyes. “It’s just sharing a bed. You haven’t done that before?”

“Ah—.” Dimitri’s lips twitch with a nervous smile. “Not in a very long time.”

Felix grumbles, hoping the blush burning along his cheeks isn’t visible in the low light as he flicks the lamp off. He settles on the bed, rolling onto his side so his back is toward Dimitri. There’s a few moments of silence, where Felix grips the bed sheets tightly, trying to calm his heartbeat down, before Dimitri climbs into the bed after him. His movements are hesitant, the bed bowing in different spots as he carefully lays down. There’s a distance between them, but Felix can feel Dimitri’s body heat, radiating through the blankets.

The room is dark save for the pale wisps of moonbeams swirling through his curtains. Dimitri shifts and settles, tension thrumming through the air. Felix squeezes his eyes shut, fingers curling and uncurling in the blankets as he forcibly slows his breathing, trying to fall asleep.

It doesn’t work. His mind is racing, his body too wound up. Dimitri is _right there_ , barely half a foot between them. If he rolled over, he wonders if he’d find Dimitri facing him, the same anxious nerves keeping Felix awake mirrored on his own face.

_Soulmates_. Felix’s fist clenches into the bedding. _Ridiculous_.

They’re both quiet, though Felix can tell by the sound of his breathing that Dimitri is still as awake as he is. It’s nearly impossible for him to calm himself down, shut his brain off so he can _sleep_. He has classes first thing in the morning, he needs to—

“ _Felix_?”

It’s a whisper—no, quieter. A soft, exhaled breath, full of far too much emotion for Felix to be braced to parse. 

His shoulders tense, teeth grit together. “What?” _His_ is more of a snap, a sharp sound in the quiet of the room.

Dimitri exhales again, the sound ruffling the blankets. Felix doesn’t need to look to know there’s a smile on his face, not when his voice is full of teasing affection.

“Good night.”

Felix inhales, exhales slowly, counting his breath. His fingers relax against the blanket, smoothing away wrinkles. 

“Good night.”

**.**

When Felix wakes, Dimitri is already out of bed. He isn’t surprised, but the lingering warmth in the sheets makes him wish for nothing more than to curl up and fall back asleep. A thought that angers him faster than anything else in the world.

He’s up and out the door in twenty minutes, only grunting at Dimitri from where he’s sitting in the living room when he greets him for breakfast.

The downside to his brusque exit is that he spends most of his time in class not being able to focus. He barely glances through his messages, ignoring Ingrid’s insistence on lunch, answering Sylvain’s pleading with rude responses until he’s left alone in Professor Flayn’s lecture.

Or, as alone as he can get when he now lives with someone else.

Dimitri’s watching a _movie_ when he arrives home, which startles him more than it should, considering he’s shown Dimitri how to work everything. 

He looks over at Felix, sheepish, when he stops in the hallway just _staring_.

“Sylvain’s book choices are. . .um. . . _repetitive_ ,” he explains. 

Felix blinks himself out of his daze, shaking his head. “I’m sure they are.”

They spend the rest of the evening just _existing_ with one another. No heartfelt talks or breakdowns of things better left in the past. Dimitri insists on helping him with dinner—which results in his bamboo cutting board being chopped in half, but Felix is too exhausted with his day to _care_ about it, already brushing off Dimitri’s steady stream of apologies. 

Once dinner is done and over with, Dimitri insists on cleaning up while Felix relaxes. 

Felix doesn’t know _how_ to relax, but he settles for a longer than usual shower before bundling up with a blanket on the couch, a shitty romcom playing while Dimitri carefully washes the dishes. 

He almost tells him, when Dimitri finishes cleaning, coming to join him halfway through the movie, squinting at the screen. The thought is always there, lingering in the back of his mind, just waiting for Felix to slip up to have the opportunity to escape. 

If it was going to happen, accidentally, tonight is the best time for it. The exhaustion in Felix’s veins outweighs the sensible side that tells him the domesticity of the night isn’t _good._ Felix has always gone off on his own, and he certainly has never expected to have a—a _partner_ like Dimitri. Overly eager, desperate to please, attempting to make up for transgressions for a person that _isn’t_ Felix. 

He almost tells him regardless. He almost blurts it out in a panic: _I kissed you and woke you up. I watched Sylvain kiss you and nothing happened, but when I did—_

_The legends say we’re soulmates._

Felix swallows thickly, his throat spasming painfully as he stops the words. What comes out of him is a raspy, “I’m tired.”

Dimitri glances to him, his brow furrowing in concern. Felix is still bundled up in his blanket nest, ignoring the intensity of Dimitri’s stare as he huddles further down. After a moment, Dimitri chuckles, the sound soft.

“Should we head to bed, then?”

_We. Bed._ Felix’s brain stops functioning for a heartbeat. By the time he processes the words clearly, he’s filled with a rush of energy, fueled by embarrassed adrenaline. He fights his way out of his cocoon, knowing well enough that his face is burning red.

“I’m going—you don’t need to yet.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you awake, you have an early morning.”

_Fuck_. Felix’s brain is kicking into overdrive, finding deeper meanings that he _knows_ Dimitri isn’t meaning to put there. There’s nothing but innocence in his voice, in the careful way he shuts everything down.

Felix feels like he’s on _fire_.

Dimitri is too busy to notice as Felix all but sprints to the bedroom, settling down quickly. He burrows under the covers, pulling them up to cover the bottom half of his face, rolled onto his side so his back is to the door. 

By the time Dimitri shuffles quietly into the room, Felix has managed to will the heat from his face, but his heart still thuds in his chest, threatening to break through his ribs. Dimitri murmurs a quiet _good night_ that Felix isn’t sure he’s supposed to return, so he doesn’t, glaring at the wall and trying to force himself to stop overthinking things.

Dimitri, surprisingly, falls asleep first. Felix is still too wound up, too overwhelmed by the proximity, but when he twists to lay on his other side, Dimitri is fast asleep, face relaxed. He’s facing Felix, laying closer on the pillow than Felix had first expected. They’re so _close_ , Felix is certain he could count his eyelashes, or the pale freckles that are scattered over his nose. Dimitri’s lips part on every exhale, a steady and slow rhythm that is lulling despite the thumping of Felix’s pulse in his ears. Strands of spun gold fall over his face, and Felix has to curl his fingers in on themselves to resist the urge to reach across the divide and brush them away. 

He looks away, trying to break this thrall over him, but that’s a mistake. Looking down just means his eyes land on Dimitri’s hand. It rests between them, still on _Dimitri’s side_ of the gap, but his palm is up, fingers twitching in his dream. Felix still feels a pull, drawn to Dimitri like the tide to the shore. 

His own fingers twitch, restless, before he reaches out, crossing the self-imposed void between them. As soon as he slides his hand atop Dimitri’s, his breath rushes out of him, far too loud in the quiet. He clamps his lips shut, resists squeezing down as he waits, but Dimitri’s breathing doesn’t change. There’s not even a twitch to his brow.

Dimitri’s hands are large, calloused, scars littered across his skin, but it feels right when Felix fits his palm against it. 

When Dimitri’s fingers close, squeezing Felix’s hand, his breath catches in his throat. 

It shouldn’t be soothing. It shouldn’t be grounding. 

But as soon as Felix squeezes back, he can feel all of his tension melting away, his thoughts drifting and melding into nonsense as he finally falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth will finally be making her appearance next chapter! there’ll be more Glenn, too! :,)


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hello, Felix."
> 
> His hand grips the door frame so tight his knuckles go white. The way she's looking at him, the way she's spoken his name, it's too familiar to what he’s already seen this week. His scowl is back in full force.
> 
> "I don't know who you are, but you need to leave."
> 
> "I'm not here to cause you any trouble," she states. There’s a brief pause as she shifts her weight, bringing a hand up to press her fingers to her jaw in contemplation. "I'm not even really here for you."
> 
> "Then you can leave." 

Felix stares directly at the tapioca pearls in his drink, avoiding any and all eye contact Glenn tries to force him into. Glenn is, unfortunately, as stubborn as Felix is. Over the remains of the pastry he bought, he stares directly at Felix, quiet. 

_Waiting_.

Felix refuses to break.

He had woken up that morning still clinging to Dimitri, who had the decency to pretend he was still asleep when Felix’s alarm had gone off. Focusing in his classes had been nearly impossible, Felix’s thoughts a whirlwind of anything _but_ his studies.

By the time he receives Glenn’s _no choice_ text minutes before his class is due to end, Felix is already itching to get home. Instead of being able to retreat to safety, he’s dragged out for a light lunch and tea so Glenn and he can _‘catch up_.’

The café around them is bustling, their tiny table in the corner barely away from the muffled din around them. Felix isn’t surprised everyone’s out to lunch, but he wishes he was anywhere but here, sitting across from his brother, an interrogation moments away from being started. 

He has no idea how long Glenn’s lunch break will last. He’s dressed like he’s just come straight from the office, his heavy coat tossed over the back of the chair to show off a neatly pressed button up and loose tie around his neck. 

Felix is certain he looks like a straggly street cat sitting across from him in torn jeans, still wearing his old bomber jacket, hair haphazardly tied up off his neck. 

He doesn’t voice his thoughts aloud. He’s not going to be the first one to speak, not when he knows a tidal wave of invasive questions is on its way.

His brother seems content to just stare, waiting for an ounce of weakness to show itself on Felix’s face to wear him down, but Felix is a Fraldarius. 

Stubbornness runs in their veins.

Glenn doesn't _break_ , but he tries to break the silence, voice carefully neutral when he speaks. “How were your classes?”

“Fine,” states Felix.

“And Dimitri’s?”

Felix lifts his eyes to glare, briefly, before dropping them. “Dimitri isn’t a student at the university.”

“My apologies,” Glenn drawls, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “What’s he do, then?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Felix has had twenty-two years to deal with Glenn. He knows when he’s trying to be an absolute ass, or just worried, but right now, he’s a mix of both, the only thing showing his _serious_ side is the tilt of his lips as he frowns.

“Felix.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I care that my brother, whose track record of hookups is _zero_ , suddenly has a random guy living in his apartment that not _one_ of his friends has heard of before?”

“I’m not Sylvain,” Felix states. “I know how to keep things to myself.”

“ _Felix_. Seriously. Will you at least tell me how the fuck you two met, then?”

Felix presses his lips together, thinking. He knows he can’t just blurt out that he met Dimitri at Tailtean, that the statue Annette’s been frantically keeping tabs on the news for _any_ news of it is currently living in his apartment. 

“We met on a hike,” he settles on. It’s not a _lie_ , truly, but Glenn still narrows his eyes. 

“A hike?”

Felix shrugs. “Hike, run, whatever you want to call it.”

“There’s a difference between a hike and your running trail, Fe.” 

Glenn’s eyes are still sharp, still watching for any weakness. Felix just reaches out and takes a long sip of his drink, looking away as he chews on a pearl. After another moment, Glenn crosses his arms.

“Do I need to sic Holst’s sister on you to figure out what the hell is going on?”

Felix looks up so quickly he can feel his hair shift, loose in its tie. He ignores it in favour of pinning his older brother with a glare that falls flat. Glenn just lifts an eyebrow. He’s never been one for idle threats. If he says he’ll sic Hilda Goneril on him, Felix will have a bubblegum pink shadow for the next few weeks. 

His experiences with Hilda have been slim, all things considered, but still more than he’s ever wanted. She’s one of Claude’s best friends—and when Felix first met Holst, he knew immediately his life would never know peace again. Hilda’s a decent woman, with her own small business, and she’s good friends with Annette, but her craving to know any and all gossip in their friend group and beyond is unsettling.

Honestly, Felix is surprised _Claude_ hasn’t tried to get Hilda to go digging around. He figures he might owe Sylvain a thank you for keeping her at bay.

“Do it and perish,” he snaps.

Glenn’s mouth opens, another threat ready to tumble off of his tongue, but he’s interrupted before he can spout anything else.

“Oh, _I see how it is._ ” 

Felix’s head snaps up and over at the huffy declaration. Claude all but saunters up to them, plopping down in the chair next to Felix, a fake pout that he must’ve picked up from Sylvain on his lips.

Glenn rolls his eyes. “What are _you_ doing here?” 

“I live in the city, Mr Fraldarius—“ 

Glenn snarls. Claude ignores him. 

“—and Felix here _promised_ he’d meet Syl and I for lunch but here he is. Eating lunch with _you_.” 

The lie rolls off Claude’s tongue so easily that for a moment, Felix almost believes him. Had it been any other time in his life, where he _isn’t_ rushing to get home, he’d almost think he had agreed and just forgotten. 

Felix glares at him anyway while Glenn scoffs. “Right, okay, you waltzed in here with the intent to just buy coffee?” 

“Glenn, Glenny, Glennjamin. Have you _met_ me? I’m always hungry. If given the chance, I would eat everything in our house within a day.”

Felix snorts under his breath. That’s the first true thing Claude’s said since sitting down. “It’s true. Claude eats way too much.” 

Claude gives a dramatic sigh, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “When my metabolism goes, Sylvain’s going to leave me for a trophy wife.” 

“I’m pretty sure Sylvain’s goal is to be _your_ trophy wife,” Felix says, which results in Claude whipping around to give him an overly pleased grin. 

“Oh, I’m aware.” 

He pairs it with a wink, which makes both Felix _and_ Glenn groan. 

“Anyway, since you two seem to be done—“ Claude talks fast and moves faster when he has a scheme in place. Felix has known that for years. It’s only made even more clear as he chatters as he moves, grabbing Felix by the arm he still has crossed over his chest, pulling them both up to their feet. “—Sylvain’s going to be so upset that Felix almost ditched us, but I’ll just tell him that his boyfriend held him up so he’s not mad at _you_ , Glenn.”

Glenn starts to protest, but Claude’s already tugging Felix away, waving over his shoulder at him. 

“Not that I think Syl would be mad at you—you still scare him too much, I think.” 

They’re at the door before Glenn’s managed to rise to his feet and as soon as Claude’s pushed the doors open, he turns to Felix with a wild grin on his face, obviously satisfied with himself. 

“You better have drove here,” Felix says, “or else we’ve got three minutes ‘til he’s after us.” 

“You act as if I don’t plan ahead.” Claude tugs one of his hands out of his pocket, twirling a keyring around his finger. “Let’s go, Fraldarius.” 

**.**

Claude is still snickering when he pulls up in front of Felix’s apartment, immune to the rude gesture Felix gives him as he climbs from the car.

“ _Hey!_ ” he calls after him before Felix can shut the door. “You’re lucky I’m not dragging you to Sylvain!”

“Tell your boyfriend a childhood death pact doesn’t mean I need him motherhenning me.”

“Tell _your_ best friend you love him but he needs to give you some more space,” Claude counters, quirking a brow. 

Felix narrows his eyes. “If I told Sylvain I wanted him to give me space, you two would be living on my couch.”

He knows immediately those are the wrong words, because Claude’s face fills with delight, his eyebrows raising up to his hairline as his lips twitch up into a grin.

“Oh? Your couch? So that means Dimitri _is_ sleeping in your bed—“

Felix slams the car door shut. Claude honks the horn, but Felix power walks away. 

He’s still scowling when he unlocks his door, calling out a _sorry, I’m late_ , as he stops in the doorway. Dimitri pops his head into the entranceway like an excited dog, grinning.

“Felix! How were your—?” He stops as soon as he spots Felix’s stormy expression. “Has something happened?”

“Glenn made me go out to lunch and then _Claude_ showed up,” Felix states with a roll of his eyes as he bends down to slip his shoes off. “They’re still obsessed with you.”

Dimitri hums, nodding. “I can see why. They must be concerned that you’ve shown up with—well, with a stranger.”

Felix shrugs, brushing by him to drop his bag by the table. “They need to mind their business.”

“ _Felix_.” 

Dimitri sounds torn between exasperated and affectionate, and Felix absolutely _hates_ that. He narrows his eyes at him, but Dimitri’s still smiling, watching as he heads to the kitchen to grab one of the iced teas in the fridge.

“They’re your friends and family,” he says. “They have a right to be concerned.”

“I doubt you’d hurt me even if you wanted to,” Felix states.

Dimitri stares at him for a moment, a _look_ overcoming him. “No. . .,” he says after the pause, voice soft. “Not you.”

Felix frowns, setting the bottle of tea on the counter, peering at him. “What’s that mean?” 

Dimitri shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says, in a tone that tells Felix it’s _everything_. “How did your classes go?”

“Fine.” Felix watches him, judging, trying to see if it’s worth pushing. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though. His thoughts are interrupted by knocking on the door.

Felix groans as Dimitri looks towards it. 

“It’s probably Claude,” he states. “Here to pester me some more.”

Dimitri just gives him a look, the twist of his lips telling Felix plainly he’s biting his tongue to refrain from saying something teasing. His eye just _sparkles_ when Felix glares at him, staying silent too as he heads to the door. 

He only pauses for a second, thinking it odd Claude would knock politely once and leave it at that, but he supposes if he’s just thinking of more ways to scheme himself into Felix’s apartment to _inspect_.

When he swings the door open, it’s not Claude in the hall, making Felix stop short, his scowl falling for something smoother, confusion furrowing his brow. 

The woman who stands in the doorway is one he’s never met before. Her hair falls about her shoulders in soft looking waves almost identical to the shade of Professor Flayn’s, but he knows for a fact he’s never met her before. 

_She’s_ the one looking at Felix with recognition clear in her eyes, a small, sad smile on her lips.

"Hello, Felix."

His hand grips the door frame so tight his knuckles go white. The way she's looking at him, the way she's spoken his name, it's too familiar to what he’s already seen this week. His scowl is back in full force.

"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave."

"I'm not here to cause you any trouble," she states. There’s a brief pause as she shifts her weight, bringing a hand up to press her fingers to her jaw in contemplation. "I'm not even really here for you."

"Then you can leave." 

He moves to shut the door, but she moves faster, palm resting against the door. Despite her barely showing any effort, he can't force the door further shut. 

Her expression hasn't changed, pale eyes still looking at him as if she can see right through him, sadness edging the tilt of her lips, a small crease between her brow. He's not sure why, but he feels like he's had that frown directed at him before.

"Is he here, Felix?"

His jaw tenses, scowl twisting his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about—go _away_."

"I'll wait out here," she says, "but tell Dimitri Byleth is here. Please." 

He jolts at the name, shoulders tensing. _Byleth_. One of the people Dimitri had first asked him about. His eyes drift over her, taking in her calm demeanor, the way she holds herself confidently.

He stares at her. Byleth stares back, face blank—Felix can’t tell if that’s a carefully crafted mask, or if she’s just not capable of expressing her emotions outside of her eyes.

“How did you know?” he asks, voice low.

Byleth’s face morphs in the blink of an eye. She drops her eyes, a small, sad smile twitching at her lips. “I saw in the news—about the statue disappearing. I had a little help tracking _you_ down, but I knew he would be with you.”

“ _How_?”

Byleth lifts her eyes. “I think you already know how, Felix.”

Heat burns low across his face, his grip on the door tightening to the point of his knuckles aching. Before he can say anything else, he hears shuffling behind him, a quiet call of his name.

“Felix? Is everything alright?”

Byleth lifts herself up onto her toes to peek over his shoulder. Felix knows exactly when they see each other. Byleth’s lips do that sad smile once more, a crease forming between her brows. 

He hears Dimitri’s breath catch—and then the soft scrape of metal against drywall. 

The lance. 

“Felix. Step away from her.”

The words come out as a half-growled command, voice pitched low with an icy fury that sends a shiver down Felix’s spine.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Dimitri,” states Byleth. 

Her hand lands on Felix’s shoulder and it’s like a _brand_. He lurches back, out of her grasp, barely hearing the snarl that falls from Dimitri’s lips as he grabs him, Dimitri’s hand snug around his bicep. He’s tugged behind Dimitri, only getting a glimpse of the lance gripped in his other hand before his view is cut off by the broad expanse of Dimitri’s shoulders.

“No— _no!_ Dimitri, don’t!”

“You don’t know what she’s done, Felix—“

“I know you can _not_ attack someone in my doorway with a fucking lance!”

“I just want to talk,” Byleth says, voice still impeccably calm. “To explain myself.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, where Dimitri’s still poised, ready to attack, but when Felix moves, grabbing his elbow to step beside him, the touch seems to knock him from his trance. He takes another moment, exhaling, shifting so he’s still partially blocking Felix, but raises his lance. 

“Give me it.”

Dimitri pins him with a sharp glare—the first time Felix has felt the brute force of his anger. He holds his hand out, standing his ground. Another moment. Another heartbeat. Dimitri relents with an angered growl, shoving the lance at him before he stalks back, further into the apartment. 

Byleth is still standing in the doorway, the hall outside lit by the fluorescents overhead. He jerks his chin and she gives him a tiny nod, stepping inside, slipping her shoes off when she sees the pile at the door. 

Felix doesn’t let her cross the hall into the apartment proper. He can hear Dimitri pacing, socks shuffling across the floor in the living room, his muttering barely audible over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Byleth lifts her chin, holding his gaze.

“He’s mentioned you, before,” he states. “Who are you?”

“My name is Byleth,” she says. “I was a professor at Garreg Mach when Dimitri was a student.”

“What.” He can feel his lips twist, facing contorting, but he stops short. “Never mind that—he’s said you’re the one that cursed him.”

“Cursed?” Byleth’s eyes widen in the smallest expression of surprise. After a moment, she hums, bringing her hand to her chin again. “I suppose that _is_ what I did.” She tilts her head. “I knew you would save him, though. Eventually.”

Felix’s eyes twitch. He moves aside, letting her in as he goes to the living room, resting the lance back in its place against the wall. Dimitri’s pacing behind the chair, growling, furious. Byleth glances around the living room, her gaze darting over the landscape pictures Sylvain’s made him hang. When her eyes land on the rack of Felix’s swords, she huffs a small, amused breath before she turns back to settle the full force of her gaze on Felix. 

“May I sit?” she asks, motioning to the couch.

Felix doesn’t deign giving her a response, just crosses his arms over his chest. Byleth sits on the edge of the couch, settling primly.

“You’re trying to tell me you actually know him?” Felix asks, gesturing to Dimitri.

“I do.” Byleth tilts her head. “I knew you, too.”

He scowls, anger flaring up in his chest. “No, you didn’t. I’m not—.” He stops himself, huffing a breath, already angry at having to repeat the fact that he is _himself_ multiple times. “Fine, whatever.”

“You followed me into battle, Felix,” Byleth continues. “We fought side by side.”

Felix glares at her. He’s always known there was a powerful general the Felix Dimitri knew followed, away from Dimitri’s own army to fight with Edelgard. He never expected it to be the woman in front of him, sitting demurely on his couch, dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. 

“You want me to believe you’re some. . .immortal?”

Byleth stares at him—simply stares, blinking. Dimitri is still fuming, lips twisted in a scowl, hands pushing through his hair but otherwise silent.

Felix tries something different. “Why are you here?”

“Because I heard about the statue,” Byleth explains, “and I care about what happens to you two.”

Dimitri scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. Felix looks at her, incredulous. He can’t tell if she’s lying—she doesn’t _seem_ to be, but her face is still so empty, he’s not able to read it as well as he wants. 

“Say I believe you,” he offers. “Even if I do, why would I believe you care about us now?”

“You were my students.” Her voice wavers with the declaration, the first time all evening Felix has heard even a hint of emotion in her voice. She lowers her eyes, fingers tightening into fists on her thighs. “You were _all_ my students, even if I chose to lead Edelgard instead.”

_Edelgard again._ Felix frowns, but doesn’t interrupt as Byleth continues.

“I failed _all_ of you. Not a day goes by that I do not wish I could’ve done something else—something _different_ —to allow you all the happiness you deserved.”

"If we made that choice. . ." The word _‘we_ ’ falls tensely from his mouth, tying his tongue. Felix glances to Dimitri, wrenching his gaze away when he sees Dimitri watching him. He turns back to Byleth, who’s still staring at her fists, shoulders trembling. "If we made the choice to follow you," he starts again, steeling himself, "we should have made our peace with it. You're telling me none of us found contentment with our lives?"

Byleth lifts her head. Felix jolts, immediately unsettled to see that her eyes are watery, tears threatening to overflow with every blink. Despite her expression, she makes a valiant attempt at a smile, just the corners of her lips pulling up.

"No, of course not. Some of you found joy," she says. "Most of you made peace with your choice. Or so I assume."

"'Assume.'" Dimitri's voice is terse, startling Felix. He's been so quiet, that he hadn't expected him to speak at all for the rest of the conversation. He continues with a half-snarled question of, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Sylvain went to Almyra," Byleth says. "He wrote a few times, in the first years, when Claude was struggling to make peace between them and us. He hated the heat, but did not regret picking Claude over staying behind in Fodlan."

Felix pauses at that. He can feel both staring at him as he thinks the information over. He still has pictures saved of Sylvain's first summer trip to Claude's childhood home, where he had burnt to a crisp on day one with awful sunglass lines across his face. 

The idea that even back then, in a completely different _life_ , Claude and Sylvain still ended up together makes something lodge in his throat. 

And if Claude and Sylvain were together, then—

_Not Annette,_ he remembers Dimitri saying. Annette left Dimitri’s side, but Dedue stayed. 

_Soulmates_.

He doesn’t want to ask what happened to Annette on that battlefield.

Felix inhales slowly, pushing those thoughts aside. He looks up, meets burning blue. He can feel the heat washing over him, but holds Dimitri’s gaze steady as he directs his question to Byleth.

"What happened to—," _me_ , "— _him?_ "

"Felix rejected the Duke title Edelgard offered him. After the crowning ceremony, I never saw him again."

Felix startles, looking over to her. Byleth readily meets his eyes, expression still wavering between uncomfortably blank, and unbearable sadness.

" _What?"_

It's Dimitri who asks that, voice nothing more than a snarl. Felix glances to him, sees the way his fingers are digging into the armchair, seams threatening to burst under his fingers.

"What did she do to him?"

"Edelgard did nothing to him," Byleth states.

“You turn me into a statue and you think I’m foolish enough to believe that wretch wouldn’t have done something to Felix?” he demands.

“I did what I did to keep you _safe_ , Dimitri.”

“Safe?” He scoffs, voice raising. “You kept me in a grandiose estate like a gilded spoil of war!”

“I built the estate so that you would be protected until the others who wished you dead had lived out their lives.”

“And then you left me to waste for a thousand years!”

“I couldn’t break the spell myself,” Byleth says, rising to her feet. “And I couldn’t _find_ the person who could! He _left!_ ”

Felix feels cold douse him. Dimitri startles, a snarled _what?_ falling from his lips. Byleth pauses, the surprise that crosses her face makes Felix’s shoulders tense, his fingernails digging crescents into the heels of his palms. 

He hasn’t told Dimitri the legend. He hasn’t told Dimitri what he _did_ to wake him up.

Byleth’s lips part, realization dawning on her face as she looks away from Dimitri to Felix. He’s certain, based on the heat burning through his face, that he’s red down his neck. She takes one more look at him before she blinks, glancing back to Dimitri. She takes in a deep breath, dropping her hands to her sides. 

“Dimitri, I watched you die five times,” she says. Her voice is softer, filled with an agony that Felix can’t understand. “You refused to yield.”

“I would never yield to the likes of you and Edelgard.”

“Claude did,” Byleth counters.

“Claude was not a _king_.”

“Not yet,” she offers, still keeping her voice soft.

“What?” questions Felix. 

He goes ignored.

“Five times, Dimitri,” she repeats. Her hands are fists at her sides. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let it happen again. We figured out a way.”

“‘ _We_ ,’” Dimitri echoes, unimpressed.

Felix looks to him. His fingers are still clenching and unclenching in the plush of the armchair’s back, as if he has to refrain from digging in completely and snapping the chair in two. He stares directly at Byleth, still frowning.

“The crest stones stayed,” Byleth says. “Even after we defeated Rhea, they _stayed_.”

There’s another moment, tense and quiet. Felix shifts his weight from foot to foot, not wanting to do anything else that could garner their attention. 

“Sothis helped you turn me to stone.”

“. . .Yes.”

Felix makes a noise. “The _goddess_ Sothis?”

Byleth looks to him, nodding, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Sothis and I are fused.”

“It is. . .complicated,” Dimitri says, his anger gone, tone filled with resignation. “You need not worry about _that_ aspect of her, Felix.”

Felix pins him with a look, but it doesn’t affect him. He’s looking down at his hands, still clenched in the armchair. Felix is surprised it’s not broken yet. After another moment of silence, he looks up, directly at Byleth.

“You should leave.”

“I can help you, Dimitri,” she says. "Help you find your footing here."

“I do not need any assistance from _you_.”

Byleth looks at him, back to Felix, then sighs. She rummages in the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a wallet. From that, she pulls a business card, crossing the few steps to proffer it to Felix. Felix can see Dimitri tense the closer Byleth gets to him, but he says nothing, just watches her silently. 

Felix takes the card. They say nothing else as she turns to leave. 

“Wait.” 

Byleth pauses, glancing over her shoulder. Dimitri calls his name in a harsh whisper. 

“How did you find me?”

Byleth blinks, but after a pause, her lips twitch upwards, a small smile on her face. “My cousin helped me.”

His eyes close and he takes in a deep breath, wishing he didn’t already know who she meant. “Flayn.”

Her nod is more just a dip of her chin. Felix scowls, and Byleth takes her leave without another word.

It’s only after he’s heard the front door shut that he exhales, looking down at the card in his hand. It’s plain, save for an odd symbol in the center, _Byleth Eisner_ written under it with a phone number. 

Eisner. The same surname as Professor Flayn.

“I do not need her help,” Dimitri states, after a moment.

Felix looks over at him. He doesn't say anything, lips still twisted in a frown. He has no idea what sort of assistance Byleth could offer, besides maybe some forged documents so Dimitri could get a job.

Not that Felix thinks Dimitri could handle any sort of job.

Felix flicks his eyes in a roll, tossing the card onto the coffee table, exhaling a long sigh. Dimitri makes a grunted noise, stalking past the couch to go into the bathroom. Felix goes to his abandoned bottle of tea. By the time Dimitri’s done showering, he has a bastardized version of something that could be called lunch. 

His suspicions that Dimitri’s appetite is gone are confirmed as he slowly picks the food apart, looking down at his plate with obvious distaste.

“Dimitri.”

He looks up. He’s far calmer than he had been when Byleth had been there, but there’s an edge to the way he’s holding his shoulders, as if he’s waiting for an enemy to pop out and attack. 

Felix already feels guilt gnawing away at him over what he’s about to ask. He knows it’s not right—knows he won’t enjoy the answer in the slightest.

“What happened to Dedue and Annette?”

Dimitri looks down, away. There’s already sadness chipping away at the tense set of his shoulders. He crosses his arms loosely on the table, his fingers gripping tight in the fabric of his shirt.

“We were at Tailtean,” he murmurs. “I—. I did not see exactly what happened. It was storming. . .” He trails off, taking in a breath. “They died together.”

“They killed each other,” Felix infers. 

Dimitri pauses, before he dips his chin in a nod, sad and solemn. “They killed each other.”

Felix inhales, counts slowly as he exhales. He pushes his chair away from the table, his own appetite gone in the blink of an eye. “Right,” he says, nodding slightly as he goes to the kitchen, dumping his food in the trash. His voice comes out soft, hitching with the nausea churning in his stomach. “Right.”

”They both made their choice,” Dimitri murmurs, “about where they would stand on that field.”

Felix is trembling as he sets his plate in the sink, the noise clinking loudly as it hits against the metal. He presses his fists against the counter, trying to will himself to _stop_.

It wasn’t Annette and Dedue, he tries to tell himself—it was two random people that shared their names, that shared their love.

Even in his own mind, his resolve falters.

_Soulmates_ , a voice whispers in the back of his mind. _Just like Sylvain and Claude. Just like you and him_.

” _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, pushing off the counter. “Fuck. I’m going to shower.”

Felix is halfway to the bathroom when Dimitri’s voice stops him dead in his tracks, cold running down his spine like ice. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri offers, his voice soft.

As if this is somehow _his_ fault. As if any of this damned situation is his responsibility.

He lets out a shaky exhale, turning his head to look over his shoulder. Dimitri meets his gaze steadily, eyebrows creased, lips twitching in a sad frown. Felix hates it—hates how Dimitri spends most of his time sad and there isn’t anything Felix can truly do to help him. When Felix speaks, he speaks his words slowly, carefully, making sure Dimitri understands the weight they hold, the truth they carry.

“It’s not your fault, Dimitri.”

_If anything_ , he doesn’t add, _it’s mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was yelled at profusely for the annidue angst and I would apologise but I’m not really that sorry about it,,, 
> 
> one more chapter to go! thanks for sticking around so far!


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette’s glare would only make Felix feel worse if he hadn’t been on the other end of it multiple times during their friendship. He does his best to ignore it, and her, as he steadies his heartbeat, trying to shake the cold off as Dimitri’s hand helps warm him. 
> 
> Annette _knows._ Which makes Felix think if she observed it, Sylvain, who’s always had a penchant for never forgetting a face, will eventually. 
> 
> Either way, he doesn’t have long left to keep the ruse up as it slips through his fingers like running water.

Felix sleeps fitfully, which makes him feel terrible. Every time he wakes up, Dimitri’s awake, staring at him, trying to lull him back to sleep with a hand smoothing up his arm, sweet nothings being murmured in his ears in an attempt to soothe him into restful dreams. 

It doesn’t help. 

His dreams are nothing short of nightmares, of a stormy, bloody field, of seeing Annette and Dedue, bleeding out together in the rain, locked in an embrace. 

His dreams are awful—he cannot _fathom_ what Dimitri’s must be like. 

He gets through his day painfully, eyeing Flayn with a more critical eye than he thinks he’s given her all semester. Sylvain blabbers on about Claude’s ‘oh so heroic _rescue mission_ ,’ but Felix’s head is buzzing too much for him to be a good conversation partner.

Not that he’s ever really a good conversation partner.

When Felix arrives home from class, a bitter taste on his tongue, he’s expecting to find Dimitri reading, or attempting to understand whatever movie he’s picked to watch. He doesn’t greet Felix when he first walks in, but Felix isn’t really expecting it. 

He does find him where he expects—sitting on the couch, a book on the coffee table. In his hand, he’s holding Byleth’s business card. Felix had forgotten about it, but Dimitri’s staring intently at it. 

“Do you know what this is?”

Felix flicks his eyes in a roll. Straight to the point. He shrugs his bag off, dropping it behind the couch as he leans over the back.

“It’s her phone number. To call.”

“Not the writing,” Dimitri states. “This.”

His fingers trace over the convoluted symbol resting in the centre, following the loops. Felix makes a noise.

“Should I?”

“It’s the Crest of Flames.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, in a way Felix has come to know that one of his friends has talked about it before. Maybe Sylvain.

Probably Sylvain.

“Okay?”

Dimitri glances at him, eye flicking over him. “I haven’t asked you about mages. Do they still exist?”

“The only ones you’ll find are fanatics that are obsessed with the Church of Seiros,” Felix answers. “They insist white magic is better than modern medicine.”

Dimitri hums. “Is it?”

Felix shrugs. “Probably only to stop immediate bleeding. When Glenn got in a car accident, my father made certain that he was only treated with medicine.”

“I see. . .”

“What’s the Crest of Flames?” he asks.

Dimitri shakes his head, dropping the card back to the table top. “Not important anymore, apparently.” He takes in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. When he looks over, he forces a tiny smile on his face, one that falls flat. “How was your day?”

Felix stares at him, watching that smile falter and fall. “It was fine. Better than yours, apparently.”

“But after your nightmares—“

“I’m fine. Caffeinated.” 

An awkward silence befalls them, but Felix is used to those. He turns on his heels, heading to the kitchen.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Oh!” Dimitri sounds more like himself as he stammers, flustering for an answer before settling on, “Whatever you would like will be fine with me!”

Felix only has to groan to let Dimitri know what an awful declaration that is. He scrambles up to follow Felix into the kitchen, hovering behind him as Felix goes to the cabinets, flicking them open to peer at what groceries they have. 

“Perhaps something with cheese?” he offers.

Felix glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Cheese?”

“There was this dish I enjoyed in my youth,” he says, his cheeks colouring a pale pink. “It was a cheesy soup dish.”

Felix hums, shutting the cupboard he has open to lean his hip against the counter as he pulls his phone out. It buzzes moments after he’s started searching for a recipe for a _cheese soup_ that has ingredients they have on hand. He swipes Annette’s message away before he can think twice about it, knowing he’ll feel guilty later on for ignoring her. 

He finds a simple enough recipe, showing Dimitri it on his phone for approval, knowing it’ll be approved regardless. Dimitri’s smile brightens, just a bit less fake, when Felix gets started on it, checking Annette’s message after he’s got a pan on the stovetop simmering. 

The message is simple: _Tomorrow night. You. Me. Dedue. Your mystery beau. Wyvern’s Cavern._

He sends her back a question on if he has a choice. The _no!_ comes attached with three heart emojis. 

Felix rolls his eyes, shoving the device back in his pocket. “If we go see Annette and Dedue tomorrow, are you going to do what you did last time?” 

Dimitri’s face colours, a pale rose dusting over his cheeks. “Ah—no. I should be fine. I got most of it out of my system, I believe.” He clears his throat. “Do they want to see you?” 

“Annette wants to meet you, since Sylvain’s told her about you.” 

“I see.” 

Felix narrows his eyes at him. Dimitri’s lips twitch up, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

“It would be good to see them,” he says. Felix’s mouth opens, but before he can speak, Dimitri’s barrelling over him. “Even _if_ they are not who I want them to be.” 

“Hm. Fine. We’re going to go get Almyran.” 

Dimitri chuckles, which causes heat to burst across Felix’s face. 

“What’s funny?” 

“You care for Almyran food quite a lot.” 

Felix scoffs, making a noise that could’ve been mistaken for syllables in words. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring up at him. Dimitri’s smile widens, eye brightening. 

“It’s the spice, isn’t it? You always cared for spice.” 

“Shut up,” he snaps. “Cook your own food.”

**.**

The air is crisp, every breath Felix exhales a cloud of white that billows from his mouth. He’s buried in one of his jackets, a hat tugged low over his ears, hands fisted in his pockets. 

The forecast calls for snow tomorrow. Felix has his doubts they’re going to last through this dinner before flakes start to fall from the sky. 

Dimitri’s fidgeting with the scarf around his neck while they wait. Annette had told them six-thirty _sharp_ and when he checks his phone it’s nearing the quarter hour. They _could_ head inside the restaurant, but Felix doesn’t want to be trapped when Annie and Dedue first show up, just in case Dimitri gets too emotional again.

The city’s rushing around them, everyone hurrying off to dinner or to their pregame drinking, too distracted in their own lives to pay any heed to two others in the midst of Fhirdiad’s bustling business district. Worst case, if Annette’s later than seven, Felix plans to drag them home and heat up the leftover soup sitting in the fridge. 

It’s almost a better thought than spending dinner at a cramped table, but before Felix can act on it, his name’s being shouted. 

In a small crowd of people, he spots Dedue first, Annette’s arm outstretched above her head to wave enthusiastically. Annette bursts forward to give Felix a hug and a cheek kiss, apologizing for being late. She’s decked out in a heavy marshmallow coat that _puffs_ as it deflates a bit in their hug, a sharp contrast to Dedue’s peacoat, but both have scarves Felix knows Dedue made wrapped around their necks.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Dedue says, smiling down at Annette before his expression smooths out. “I did not think we would struggle to find parking.”

“You didn’t think you’d struggle to find parking in downtown Fhirdiad,” Felix states, lifting a brow.

Dedue doesn’t rise to the bait, and Annette lets neither get into a spat. She turns her bright eyes on Dimitri and Felix shifts his weight, glancing over. Dimitri seems fine—amused, if anything. 

Felix motions to the two in front of them. “Annette and Dedue.” 

Annette waves while Dedue nods. Dimitri’s lips curl in a small smile.

“And this is Dimitri,” Felix states, gesturing. 

Dimitri lifts his hand in a mild wave. He’s doing _surprisingly_ well, given the events from a few days prior. Annette’s eyes are sharp, her cheeks flushed from the cold, but determination palpable.

“Your boyfriend, Dimitri!”

Felix splutters, choking on his spit as his face alights with heat. “He is _not_ my boyfriend, he’s just a—“ He stops short, unable to think of a description that _fits_ Dimitri. Calling him just a friend feels. . . _wrong_ , but what else could he possibly use? Anything else feels _too_ familiar. “He’s my friend,” he settles on, stammered and weak.

“Mmhmm.” Annette nods along to his statement, looping her arm through his. “Right. A boy, who is your friend. Like Dedue is a boy, who is _my_ friend!” 

Dedue snorts. Felix glares at him. Dimitri glances between them, looking confused. 

“It is. . .nice to meet you both?” he offers. 

Annette nods enthusiastically, but her eyes are sharp, assessing. Felix huffs a breath.

“It’s freezing out here—are we getting dinner or not?”

Dedue leads them inside, the restaurant just as busy as Felix feared it would be. The table’s at least decently sized, a small one in the corner where there’s enough leg room for both Dedue and Dimitri. 

Felix is grateful for a fraction of a second that he’s stuck across from Dedue, until he sees how Annette’s still trying to assess Dimitri as they slip their heavier winter accessories off to settle in.

Dimitri is obviously trying his hardest not to stare at Dedue. Felix can tell by the twitchiness of his hands, the way his chin moves as he looks around with his good eye. Felix isn’t sure which part is irritating him more, but he drops his hand and rests it on Dimitri’s thigh. He squeezes and Dimitri tenses, exhaling slowly. There’s the briefest of moments as Dedue orders them all waters before his own hand rests above Felix’s, all but engulfing his. Felix allows it, lets Dimitri lift it just enough to wrap his fingers tightly around his own.

They chatter amicably as Felix flips through the menu, picking out food for him and Dimitri both. Annette’s been staring unashamedly at Dimitri, eyes narrowed, obviously trying to figure out just _who_ he is, but she doesn’t question anything other than ask Dimitri what he thinks of Almyran cuisine.

“I have only had it a few times,” Dimitri admits, “but it’s been good.”

“A _few_ times?” Annette hums, exchanging a quick glance with Dedue, which Felix glares at her for. “You obviously haven’t been around Claude that much, then!”

“ _Or_ , you’re presuming too much,” Felix tells her. 

“Do you prefer cooking at home, Dimitri?”

The sound of Dedue’s voice makes Dimitri’s hand tighten around Felix’s. He grits his teeth against the pain, waiting a breath as Dimitri flusters a response.

“Not. . .particularly.”

“He’s about as good as a cook as I am,” Felix says. 

The pain must be in his voice for Dimitri makes a soft _oh_ and loosens his grip, though he doesn’t release Felix’s hand entirely. His thumb swipes over his knuckles, a silent apology.

“You’re a skilled cook,” Dedue states. “Just better in some areas than others.”

Felix snorts. “Don’t patronize me.”

Dedue’s lips twitch up in the closest thing to a smile Felix will ever manage to get out of him. Annette hums again, but before she can comment on anything, the waitress returns, taking their orders. Dimitri, still unsure, asks Felix to order for him, which results in the burning force of Annette’s full gaze into the side of his head, causing his ears to burn with a blush.

The waitress has just stepped away when Annette makes a noise, high in her throat. “Hey, have you guys been keeping up on that statue thing?”

Felix tenses. His hand had been reaching for his glass of water, but it pauses mid-reach. Dimitri’s fingers have tightened against his again. Dedue saves them both, tilting his head to peer at Annette.

“The statue?”

She nods, red hair bouncing about her shoulders with the movement. “The one at Tailtean I was telling you about! That got stolen a little bit ago!”

“Ah, right.”

She whirls to Felix. There’s a _look_ on her face, one that makes Felix feel far too cold given how warm the restaurant is. Slowly, pointedly, her eyes go to Dimitri.

“Have you heard about it, Dimitri?” she questions, the picture of innocence for anyone who doesn’t know her.

_She needs to stop hanging out with Hilda_ , Felix decides. 

“I—I have not.” Dimitri’s lie is faltered, awkwardly forced out, but neither Annette or Dedue call him out on it if they notice. “A statue was stolen?”

Felix wants to curse him for encouraging the conversation further, his fingers digging into the denim stretched taut over Dimitri’s thigh. Dimitri makes another noise, softer, only truly audible since Felix is _listening_ for it. 

Annette nods, completely unaware of their moment. “At the Tailtean ruins,” she explains. “There’s this statue that’s been there for _ever_. Sylvain, Felix, and I went so Sylvain could take pictures of me beside it.”

“Is—is that so?”

Another nod from Annette, still enthusiastic, her eyes still sharp. “It is!” She turns to Felix. “I don’t think you had a lot of comments about it, though. Did you?”

He glares at her. “It was a statue. Someone stole it. Who cares.”

“Oh, I think _you_ might.” 

Her comment is muttered under her breath, but Felix still hears it perfectly. Before he can find a retort, she stands up, her chair screeching back against the floor. 

“Felix!” Her hands clap down on the tabletop, startling all of them. “Come with me for a moment!”

“What?”

Annette’s already sweeping around the table, grabbing Felix’s arm and tugging. “Come _with me_. Just for a moment!”

Felix looks to Dedue, helpless, but Dedue pointedly avoids his stare. He lets Annette tug him up, muttering under his breath as Dimitri gives his hand one last squeeze, the fear on his face at being left alone barely masked. 

“We’ll be right back!” Annette calls over her shoulder. “You two can get to know one another!” 

She drags him out of the restaurant, to the small awning outside. It’s still _freezing_ , and Felix’s long sleeved shirt does nothing to combat the chill. There are others meandering down the street, fluorescent signs lighting them in multiple neon colours. Felix looks away from them to Annette, who peers up at him, the lights reflecting in her eyes. She’s half-glaring, half-pouting, and Felix glares back at her.

“What are we doing out here?”

She huffs. “You know what we’re doing.”

“If I _did_ , I wouldn’t have asked,” he states. 

Annette stares at him. Felix gives her another moment before wrenching his gaze away, annoyed and angry. He refuses to acknowledge the worry that’s starting to course through him at leaving Dimitri alone with Dedue. He knows he can handle himself—he’s just concerned that everything will catch back up to Dimitri and he’ll overthink himself again.

“Felix.”

He looks back to Annette. 

“How did you and Dimitri meet?”

“I don’t need to tell you that.”

“Felix.“ She sounds serious, her brows coming together in a frown. “Seriously? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize him?”

Felix blames the shiver that runs down his spine on the chill in the air.

Annie’s always been far too smart. 

He grits his teeth, arms still crossed over his chest. If there was ever a time for his _Fraldarius Stubborn Gene_ to kick in and dig his heels in, now’s the time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Annie.”

“Sylvain made me stare _longingly_ at that statue on the plains for twenty minutes,” she says. “What _happened_?”

“You think I woke a statue up?” asks Felix. 

“I think there are chances that ancient magic _could_ act up if given the right parameters!”

“You’re believing in fairy tales now?” Felix asks, voice hitching. He hopes she blames it on the cold air, but knows better by the way her eyes sharpen. “What else are you believing in now?”

“I’m believing in my _eyesight_ , Felix! It’s not like magic isn’t completely outdated! What did you do?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Will you stop being stubborn and _tell_ me? Am I not one of your best friends?” she demands, hands fisted at her sides. “I can help!”

“Help with what?” he asks, baffled. “What could you possibly do?”

“Well, I—I haven’t thought that far! But you need to tell me the truth! Dimitri’s _him_ , isn’t he?”

“Annie—do you hear yourself?” He’s dodging the questions, something he’s never been good at. He’s the worst liar out of all of them, but he can’t _tell_ her what happened. “Have you told Dedue this convoluted theory of yours?”

“What happened to the statue, Felix?” Annette’s fists are balled at her sides and she leans up on her toes to crowd him, a small ball of fury with cold-flushed cheeks. “Huh? Tell me that!”

Felix makes a noise in his throat, rolling his eyes. “How should I know what happened to it? This is pointless—it’s below _freezing_ , Annette. I’m going back inside.”

“ _Felix Hugo Fraldarius!_ ”

He ignores her, and her _don’t ignore me!_ as he heads back inside. He reaches the table moments before Annette does, fuming at him. Dedue glances between them, as does Dimitri, but Felix just sits back down. He hasn’t even uncrossed his arms before Dimitri’s hand is on his thigh, a reassurance he _shouldn’t_ be happy to have. He settles under the warm weight of it, uncrossing his arms and propping an elbow on the table, the other hand going to rest over Dimitri’s. 

Annette’s glare would only make Felix feel worse if he hadn’t been on the other end of it multiple times during their friendship. He does his best to ignore it, and her, as he steadies his heartbeat, trying to shake the cold off as Dimitri’s hand helps warm him. 

Annette _knows_. Which makes Felix think if _she_ observed it, Sylvain, who’s always had a penchant for never forgetting a face, will eventually. 

Either way, he doesn’t have long left to keep the ruse up as it slips through his fingers like running water.

**.**

“Annette knew me.”

Dimitri’s voice is quiet, thoughtful, as Felix shoves his key into the lock on the front door. He fixes him with a glare that holds no true heat in it as the lock clicks. 

“Well, I suppose she did not know _me,”_ Dimitri continues, still musing mostly to himself. “But she recognized me as the statue.”

As Felix fumbles for the door knob, Dimitri turns his gaze to him, eye burning blue. 

“Is that what she pulled you away for? To ask?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix states, shoving the door open. “She can’t confirm anything unless I tell her the truth.”

Dimitri hums, following Felix inside, watching as he kicks his shoes off and divests himself of his winter outerwear. “So, you didn’t tell her?”

“How could I?”

Dimitri makes a soft noise, akin to a wounded animal. “I don’t like the idea of you lying to your friends because of me, Felix.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to _do_ , Dimitri?” he asks, voice snappish. “Tell them you’re a statue that woke up because some ancient spell finally broke? You have no documents! There’s no way for you to get a job! There’s just—just _this!_ ” He gestures around his apartment, helplessly, frustration bubbling up as tears start to burn at his eyes. “I can’t help you find your footing in this world, I _can’t_ —“ His voice breaks, and he looks away, angry at himself for the tears that are threatening to fall. “I can’t help you.”

A warm, heavy hand lands on his shoulder, Dimitri tenderly running his palm down his bicep. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

“Don’t—don’t _apologize!_ None of this is your fault! It’s _mine_ , but if I hadn’t done what I did, you’d still just be on that damned field, and I—“

Dimitri’s hand has been running up and down his arm. Felix has been so focused on not letting tears fall down his face that he hasn’t noticed him shifting, pulling him closer, until Dimitri’s hand moves, sliding to the small of his back, the other hand lifting to tuck against the nape of his neck. 

Felix falls against him, teeth clenched. He doesn’t hug him back, but he doesn’t resist, just lets his cheek be guided to Dimitri’s chest, where he can hear the steady thumping of his heart. 

“I have an idea,” Dimitri offers, softly, his thumb stroking along the dip of his spine. “We can call Byleth.”

“You’d hate doing that,” Felix points out, voice muffled in Dimitri’s sweater. 

“This isn’t about what _I_ want, Felix. This is about how to make this easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he scoffs, a wet noise pressed into Dimitri’s shoulder. “Why would you want that, after everything—“ _Everything I did,_ he thinks. 

He’s too terrified to voice it, too anxious—

“It wasn’t you,” Dimitri murmurs, sliding his thumb along the small of his back. “I know I haven’t—I haven’t had the easiest time, distinguishing you from who I stood across on a battlefield, but whatever guilt you’re feeling, Felix, you don’t need to.”

“But—“

His protest doesn’t have the chance to fully form; Dimitri keeps talking, voice still soft and soothing, a gentle lull within it.

“You saved me,” he murmurs. “ _You_ , Felix Hugo Fraldarius. You woke me up on Tailtean. No one else.”

Something tightens in his chest. He buries his face in Dimitri’s shoulder, trying and failing to count his breaths. He knows who he is—knows that this guilt that he’s feeling isn’t fully caused by the thought that he could somehow bring himself to participate as a ruthless killer in a bloody war. 

He needs to tell Dimitri about how he woke up, he needs to do it, he _needs to—_

“Byleth, though,” Dimitri continues after another moment. “She must have some way to get me the proper paperwork I need so your friends stop asking after me, right? If she has a place in this world, there is nothing stopping _me_ from it.”

“Byleth didn’t wake up randomly in the middle of a field—she’s had time to adjust.”

“Mmn, perhaps.” Dimitri’s rocking them, slowly, still holding firmly to Felix as he sways side to side. “I think you’ve been doing a fine job.”

Felix scoffs. “Whatever.”

It’s nearly eight by the time they part, Felix’s face warm from his embarrassment. Dimitri looks far too pleased with himself, but avoids Felix’s scowl as he heads to the fireplace to get a fire going. Felix shuffles around the couch, watching Dimitri as he kneels down on the bricks, his shoulders shifting with movement. He must feel Felix’s stare, because he all but preens as he lights a fire. 

Felix looks away before he can turn, grabbing the business card that Byleth had left them, tugging his phone from his pocket as he sits down. It’s late enough that he _should_ wait until the morning for this, but he has a feeling Dimitri and he are going to have another conversation before the night’s over.

“This is still an awful idea.” 

Dimitri rises to his feet, glancing over his shoulder. He looks proud of himself as the fire crackles to a full roar in the fireplace.

“As much as I am loath to ask her for assistance, I do believe Byleth is our best option—our _only_ , if we’re being honest.”

Felix presses his lips together. “I could—I could see what the others think of Annette’s thoughts, first.”

Dimitri gives him a small look, a pinch between his brows. “If that’s what you want.”

“This shouldn’t be about _me_ ,” he grumbles, but he goes to his contacts, pulling up Sylvain’s. A slightly sunburned face grins up at him from his contact screen, a blurry Claude half hidden behind Sylvain’s shoulder in the contact image of Sylvain’s choosing. He’s not sure _what_ emotion is bubbling up in him, be it guilt or regret, but he pushes it back down, hitting the dial button. 

Dimitri settles beside him on the couch, brows furrowed, patient as they wait for Sylvain to answer.

It rings three times, four times, before the line clicks. Sylvain’s voice crackles, slightly out of breath, concern already melting into his voice. 

“Hey, Felix! Everything alright?”

He can hear muffled music in the background, Claude’s slightly off-key singing. 

Sylvain’s at karaoke night. 

“I’m fine. Sorry—you’re busy, aren’t you?”

“Nah, I just had my turn,” Sylvain says, easy going and too forgiving as always. “Claude’s on stage now. What’s up, though? Annie said you guys were getting dinner?”

“We got dinner with her. Me and Dimitri.” Felix pauses, thinking, listening to Sylvain take a breath, ready to steer the conversation, but he can’t think of a way to get through this without ripping the bandage right off. He glances to his side, meets Dimitri’s bright eye. “Do you know Annette thinks Dimitri is the statue from Tailtean?”

There’s a pause. The background noise grows even softer, before it cuts off altogether, leaving Felix to clearly hear Sylvain’s exhale.

“Well, is he?”

He jolts. “Sylvain—“

“Kind of funny, though,” Sylvain continues, either oblivious or purposely ignoring Felix’s splutter. “If he _was_ , you’d have had to have gotten magic powers almost overnight.” There’s an overdrawn _hmm_. “Or, I guess not really. What you _would_ have had to do is drive yourself all the way to Tailtean, and I have no idea whose car you would’ve taken—“ A pause. “Wait, no, Glenn’s, obviously, but you wouldn’t normally _willingly_ drive that far, since you hate driving.”

“Sylvain—,” Felix tries again, but Sylvain keeps talking.

“Besides, I doubt Dimitri _could_ be a statue! It’s not like that lance that lives in your doorway isn’t identical to the one the statue was holding.”

A lump forms in his throat, threatening to choke Felix as his mouth goes dry and his face grows hot.

“And it’s not like you’d have the _audacity_ to lie multiple times to me, your best friend, or my boyfriend, who so graciously paid for our dinner the other night.”

Felix can’t see Sylvain’s expression, but he knows the mask that’s on his face based on the tone of his voice alone. That smile that barely reaches his eyes, always more like a smirk, plastic and fake. 

“Isn’t that right, Fe?”

Felix has no words—he can’t form any syllables. Out of everyone, he’s not surprised Sylvain pieced it together, but the fact that almost everyone seems to have—

“I’ll let Annie know she’s letting her imagination run wild,” Sylvain continues, unperturbed by Felix’s drawn out silence. “I’ve gotta get back inside, though, because Hilda _will_ have taken advantage of my absence and drank more—“

Felix hangs up before Sylvain has the chance to. His eyes drop to his phone and the _call ended_ screen before flitting to his other hand, where Byleth’s name and number rest.

“. . .Felix?”

He startles, looking over. Dimitri looks more concerned than he had before the phone call. His hand moves, like he wants to reach out again, but he stops himself, letting it fall to his thigh. 

“What did Sylvain tell you?”

“He knows.” Felix’s voice is a rasp. “Fuck, of _course_ he knows.” He drops the things in his hands, bringing his knuckles up to press against his eyes. 

“Call Byleth.”

Felix lowers his hands, looking over. “You _hate_ her.”

“I do,” Dimitri says, without an ounce of hesitation. “It doesn't matter. I am not asking you to. I am telling you: call her.”

Felix opens his mouth to argue, his hackles rising at the order that falls from his lips, but Dimitri moves before he can, rising to his feet. He moves away from the couch, headed to the kitchen.

Felix watches him go, notes the tense set of his shoulders. Felix can hardly wonder how awful this must be for Dimitri—one of the only people who knows _him_ is the person who not only trapped him in stone, but faced him on a war torn battlefield. Despite this, he’s determined to make _Felix_ ’s life better, as if Felix is anything more to him than the stranger that woke him up.

He swallows down the tense lump in his throat, scooping up the business card. 

He only has to wait three rings before the line connects with a bland, _“Eisner._ ”

Felix narrows his eyes. “Byleth.”

There’s a brief pause, before an obviously surprised Byleth goes, “Felix. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright?”

Felix considers for a moment. He knows just telling her _no_ won’t be useful, but he feels like he’s spoken enough for the night. He settles on a sigh, then: “Some of my friends have recognised Dimitri as the statue from Tailtean. My brother and my other friends are already suspicious of him showing up out of the blue. We don’t—.” Felix cuts himself off with a frustrated huff. “ _I_ don’t know what to do.”

Byleth hums and Felix has no issue picturing her with a finger pressed to her chin as she thinks. “It’ll be easy enough to explain once I can get Dimitri some proper paperwork. I can stop by in the morning, will that be alright?”

Felix glances to Dimitri, who has the kettle in hand. “That’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

The call ends and Felix exhales. His other hand hasn’t let go of the business card and he looks it over for a moment before he pulls the browser up on his phone, typing her name in. The first result feels like a gut punch. 

_I was a professor at Garreg Mach_ , Byleth had said. The first result tells him she’s _still_ a professor at Garreg Mach, though the next few showcases she’s the curator of Garreg Mach’s historical museum adjacent to the university. 

He wonders, briefly, if she’s run into Edelgard there.

He’s still skimming over her information when a mug appears in his face. He looks up, following Dimitri’s outstretched hand to the small smile on his face.

“Almyran Pine,” he says.

Felix can tell by scent alone, but he thanks him as he tosses the card and his phone aside to take the mug. “Byleth will stop by tomorrow morning. She’s already got a plan.”

“That’s good,” Dimitri says, settling on the couch beside him. His voice goes soft and wistful when he continues with, “She was always reliable back at the academy, even if she wasn’t in charge of our class.” He hums, voice gravelly. “I suppose that’s why she was able to win the war.”

Felix goes through an entire conversation in his head while they sit in the quiet, each slowly drinking their tea down, trying to piece together what’s going to happen. He needs to tell Dimitri exactly what happened, how Felix woke him, for he knows as soon as Byleth arrives tomorrow, she will, but—

But.

The words won’t form in a way he’s satisfied with. They all sound stilted and awkward as he thinks them over. He sees his attempts falling flat, doing nothing but fanning the low embers of anger and resentment that are burning in Dimitri. 

He’s seen the rage he holds towards Byleth, knows that the only thing saving _him_ from that same anger is the fact that he isn’t the Felix Dimitri once knew. As soon as Felix admits he’s lied—even by omission—it’ll all end poorly.

Felix doesn’t want that. He _hates_ that he doesn’t want that. That even in this short amount of time, he’s grown used to Dimitri to the point that even the _thought_ of him walking out his door makes his chest ache.

Eventually, their tea is done and Dimitri goes to shower while Felix still sits, still contemplating. 

There’s no easy way to explain it. Not after Byleth had made it explicitly clear she couldn’t have woken Dimitri up without Felix. 

He doesn’t like to think too deeply about the implication of someone _else_ being him—but he wonders, had his past self known about Dimitri’s fate, would he have returned to wake him? Or would he have rather lived his life without, after he betrayed what he knew?

It’s too much to think clearly about, his thoughts all jumbling together until he’s as frustrated as he was when they returned home. 

Felix crawls from the couch while Dimitri's still in the bathroom, changing into sleep clothes. He's tugging his shirt down when he steps back into the living room, and stops short at the sight greeting him outside the window.

Frost has fogged the top edges, the fire not quite large enough to reach, but beneath that he can see small starfalls of flakes swirling outside.

It's snowing.

Felix feels like he's floating as he walks to the sliding glass doors. The flakes are still light enough that they melt where they land on the deck outside. It should unsettle him, how quickly the sight of the snow calms him. As if it's blanketing his mind like it'll eventually blanket the street below.

He barely hears Dimitri come out of the bathroom, a small towel around his neck to catch water droplets dripping from his hair. Felix spots him in the reflection as he approaches, and he doesn't need to look to see the smile on his face. His sharp inhale and the way he breathes out, _snow_! is tell enough.

"It's not quite enough to stick yet," Dimitri murmurs, "but this is the first of the season?"

"Yeah," Felix breathes. He doesn't sound like himself. "We should—. We should get to bed." 

He turns to look up at Dimitri. They're standing so close that he can feel the warmth radiating off of him, but the prior knowledge does nothing to stop the jolt at being greeted by the sight of Dimitri's sharp jawline. Dimitri glances down as Felix feels heat rush through his face, red-hot. 

"It might stick during the night. We could wake up to snow."

Dimitri smiles again, soft and gentle. "That would be nice."

Felix heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish readying for bed. By the time he's heading into the bedroom, Dimitri's settled down in bed, but he's still rubbing the towel over his head to wring out more water. The swell of affection at the sight of his drying, frizzing hair when he looks over to Felix is unexpected, unwelcome, and completely undeniable. 

Felix settles at the bed edge, back to Dimitri. He hears the tell tale _thump_ of the towel landing in the hamper in the corner when Dimitri tosses it. He fiddles with his phone, shutting off his alarm signalling the wake up time for his run. He doesn't want to deal with fresh snow on top of having no idea when Byleth will actually arrive.

He's just set the device down when Dimitri exhales a long sigh.

He has an idea that the thought of them needing Byleth to help is nothing short of upsetting. Dimitri's started to take things in stride, but his emotions are still all over the place, still trying to cope with the strangeness of the situation they've been thrust into.

Felix bites on the inside of his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Felix," he murmurs, in that reverent tone of his. As if Felix holds his whole world in his palms. "What did you do to break the spell, the one to wake me?"

Felix's fingers curl into fists against the blanket, closing his eyes. Every random thought he had on how he could start this conversation falls short.

He hadn't thought Dimitri would actually _ask_.

"There was a legend, based on your statue. On you, I guess."

"A legend?" questions Dimitri.

Felix nods. "I have no idea where it started, but Annie told me about it the weekend we went to get photos there."

"That was. . . That was the weekend before you woke me, right?"

Another nod. "Yeah. I couldn't stop thinking about you during that week." His face feels alight with heat, ears burning as the blush spreads. It's dark enough that he knows Dimitri can't see it, but the knowledge of it makes his fingers tighten their grip in the sheets. "The legend was simple—once the statue was kissed by their soulmate, they'd wake up."

He hears the shuffling sounds of Dimitri sitting upright. "Soulmate?" A pause. His breath hitches. " _Kiss_?"

Felix huffs, still flustered. "I watched Sylvain kiss your cheek—I didn't let Annette kiss you. When I went back, I thought I could kiss your cheek and this. . .this obsession I had over you would go away once I proved to myself it was nothing but nonsense."

There's silence for a moment. Felix steels himself for the worst, but Dimitri's next words come on a soft exhale.

"You kissed me."

That declaration makes Felix whirl, cheeks burning. " _I kissed your cheek_!"

Dimitri's staring at him with a wide eye, full of wonder. His lips are parted in astonishment as he just _stares_.

"You _kissed_ me," Dimitri repeats, awed, "and I woke up."

Felix wrenches his gaze away, clenching his teeth. "Yes. That's what I said."

" _Felix._ . ."

"Don't say my name like that!" he demands, still looking away.

There's a soft noise, an amused, disbelieving huff that falls from Dimitri's lips. His hands land on Felix's arms, smoothing down, and Felix's body is torn between fighting and leaving, or letting Dimitri tug him close. 

"How do I say your name?"

Felix is burning, stuck in place. "You _know_ how!"

"Do I?" hums Dimitri. "Do I say it like I could say it over and over and never grow tired of it? As if I could never doubt that you, _Felix_ , and I are destined to be together, as we have from the start?"

Felix's body lurches at his words, but to his own horror he leans closer. " _Dimitri!_ " he hisses.

He chuckles—the bastard _chuckles._ He leans close enough that his breath rustles the hairs that have fallen over Felix's forehead. One of his hands raises, curling a lock around his finger before tenderly tucking it behind Felix's burning ear _._

"You know," he says, conversationally, as if Felix doesn't feel like he's melting, "I could never grow tired of hearing my name from your lips, either."

"You're— _ugh!"_ Felix can't stand it. Can't stand Dimitri, or his teasing, or _himself_ for what he's feeling. He knots his fingers in the collar of Dimitri's sleep shirt, shoving him back, following as Dimitri falls in mild shock. "Be _silent_ ," he orders, pinning Dimitri to the bed with his hands on his shoulders before he leans down, following his demand with his lips.

It’s perhaps the worst kiss of Felix’s life—his embarrassment fueled him to all but slam his face down, his nose catching Dimitri’s, their teeth clacking together, but before he can draw back, Dimitri’s hand is on his neck, fingers snarling into the strands at his nape, tugging Felix’s hair _just so_ to adjust them both. 

They kiss like they’re arguing, though that’s mainly due to Felix. He can’t settle for just the press of their lips together, the feel of Dimitri’s tongue licking its way into his mouth. He nips and bites, drawing noises from Dimitri he’s never dared let himself dream of hearing before. 

They kiss until Felix feels like he can’t breathe, the room suddenly suffocatingly warm. He pushes himself up, practically gasping, heart thundering in his chest. 

Dimitri's still laying there, his blush clear even in the dark lighting of the room, red splotching down his neck. His lips, spit-slick and kiss-bitten, are parted, his exhales audible as he struggles to catch his breath.

Felix growls, pushing himself even farther away to roll onto his side, fighting momentarily with the blankets as he tugs them up around himself.

"Good _night."_

There's another one of those soft, quiet huffs. Felix isn't surprised when Dimitri shifts, rolling closer. The arm winding around his waist isn't unexpected, and the relief that courses through him when Dimitri tugs him to his chest, nosing into the soft strands at the nap of his neck is enough to get his lungs to swell with a breath he struggles to exhale.

Dimitri's lips brush along his neck, sending warm shivers down Felix's spine. "Good night, Felix."

**.**

Felix wakes feeling just this side of _too_ warm, nestled under the blankets, a weight tossed across his waist, pressed to his side and pinning his arm to the bed. He can barely feel his fingers, the tips of them tingling as he blinks himself awake.

It's early, from what he can tell from the pale light peeking in from the window.

Dimitri's face is pressed against his neck, nuzzled close. Felix tries to pry his arm out from underneath him, but only succeeds in Dimitri's arm around his waist squeezing tighter.

" _Oi._ " He bats lightly at Dimitri's shoulder with the hand that's not being held hostage. " _Dimitri._ You brute, get off my arm.”

Dimitri mumbles sleepily, still laying heavily atop him. Felix glares, putting more weight behind the shoves he gives Dimitri’s shoulders, but it’s in vain. Felix tugs his arm, getting it halfway out from underneath him when there’s pounding on the front door. 

Dimitri’s awake in an instant, sitting up, body poised and tensed for an attack. Felix shifts, throwing his legs over the bed edge, shaking feeling back into his hand, prepared for Glenn’s muffled shouting. He doesn’t get it, and grabs his phone to check the time.

Barely seven. Definitely _not_ Glenn.

Dimitri’s pushing his hair from his face as Felix climbs from the bed grabbing better clothes. He already knows who’s waiting on his doorstep, and he has no qualms making her wait a bit longer as he changes out of his pyjamas. 

Byleth doesn’t seem to have minded the wait too long when Felix does eventually open the front door. Felix steps aside to let her in, noting the knapsack on her back. She slips her shoes off to follow Felix to the living room, only glancing up curiously when Dimitri emerges from the bedroom, also dressed for the day, tugging half of his hair up. Her eyes turn to Felix.

“Did I wake you two?”

“At seven in the morning on a Sunday?” questions Felix.

“I thought you two might be enjoying the snow,” she states mildly. 

Felix peers over her head to the porch, where a thin sheet of snow rests atop the wood. He just _hmm_ s and turns back to Byleth, who’s already rummaging through her bag. 

“You told me that your friends _suspect_ Dimitri is the statue, right? They don’t know for sure?”

“I mean—I didn’t deny it. They basically know.”

Her eyes narrow at him. “Did you _confirm_ it?”

“Well.” Felix feels his face grow hot, shifting his weight and looking away. “I didn’t really say anything. It pissed Annie off and I have no idea how Sylvain reacted because I hung up on him.”

Byleth hums. “I can work with that.”

“How?”

She doesn’t answer, going back to her bag. 

“Here.” She pulls a plain folder out, handing it to Dimitri. “Birth certificate, passport, high school diploma, and some other important paperwork you’ll need to get a job. I would highly recommend talking to Flayn, since she can get you a job as an assistant on campus.”

Dimitri opens the folder, and Felix shifts to stand at his side as he flicks through the paperwork. Felix pauses when he gets to the diploma, pulling it from the stack. He’s never heard of the school before, eyes narrowing at Byleth.

**“** It’s by Garreg Mach,” she answers, when Felix asks. She turns her gaze to Dimitri. “You still remember the terrain well enough to believably come from there, yes?” 

“If it’s anything like Fhirdiad has grown into, I’m not too sure. . .” 

“No one will ask you detailed questions,” Felix asks. “Unless it’s Claude. But you can just tell him to fuck off.” 

Dimitri frowns at him, telling Felix without words he will absolutely _not_ do that. “Claude is a friend.” 

“Claude is a gossip, just like half of my friend group. Goddess knows what Sylvain’s told him by now.”

“Boys,” Byleth says, sounding exasperated. “I’m not being paid to help you two this time. Just. . .try to make it believable. You can claim you were raised by a family member outside of your immediate family.” 

“How are we supposed to make that believable when they already think he was a statue last week?”

“Easy enough.” Byleth whirls on her feet, grabbing Dimitri’s collar to tug him down to her level. She raises her phone in the same motion, and Felix doesn’t need to be looking at the screen to tell the selfie she’s taken is nightmarish at best. 

She hums and releases Dimitri. 

“There. I’ll text it to you.” 

“I—ah. I don’t have a phone?” 

“Oh, right.” Byleth rummages in her knapsack, pulling a small box out. “Felix can teach you how to use it. Basically everything’s unlimited. You won’t have to worry about the bill, either, I’ll handle it.” 

Felix watches as she slings her bag over her shoulder, getting one last, narrowed look at the two of them before she smiles—an actual smile that catches them both off guard, based on how Dimitri startles as much as Felix does. 

“I’m heading back to Garreg Mach today, but if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call on me.” 

She reaches out. Felix isn’t expecting a head pat, but she pats his head twice. She stretches up on her toes, hand outstretched, obviously ready to do the same to Dimitri, but she reconsiders, settling her weight back when Dimitri scowls down at her. 

“I’m glad you two found each other again. You deserve your happy end.” 

Felix watches as she heads out the door, slipping her shoes on as she goes. After a moment, he exhales, turning to Dimitri. 

“I’m going to call Sylvain. He’ll be the best mediator for the entire group once I can convince him you _weren’t_ a statue.”

Dimitri nods, still looking at the phone he’s been given. Felix reaches out, and Dimitri’s eye catches the movement, his smile bright as he takes Felix’s hand. “I’ll be alright,” he says. “I just need to know what he’ll ask of me.” 

“We can wait, if you need to.” 

Dimitri shakes his head, still smiling as he tugs Felix the half-step closer. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for far too long,” he says, tossing the phone onto the couch to cup Felix’s face with his other hand. His thumb smooths along the arc of his cheek. “I’ve grown tired of it.” 

Felix hums, eyes drawn to Dimitri’s mouth without his permission. “You’re sure?” 

“With you at my side, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Felix.” 

Felix draws his eyes up, raising a brow. “Yeah? Gonna prove it?”

Dimitri grins, a wolfish, toothy thing that’s gone in an instant as he leans down, pressing his lips to his. He pulls away just far enough for his lips to brush against Felix’s as he speaks. “Always.” 

  
  
  


Two hours later, Felix’s phone lights up with a new message. He has yet to add Byleth as a contact in his phone, but the two pictures are undeniably from her. The first is the selfie she took with Dimitri in his apartment. The second is one next to a statue that looks identical to him, the sunlight showcasing she’s out in the ruins at Tailtean. The only text that comes with the message is _now annie can’t yell at you for having a statue boyfriend_. 

Felix throws his phone aside, decidedly not wanting to know how Byleth managed _that._

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this very self-indulgent au!! the response to this fic has been overwhelming and definitely unexpected for something like this, but I truly appreciate all the support I’ve gotten!!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wintersrose616), if you’d like too!


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